


Auras

by WolfenM



Series: The Miraculous Memory Machine [1]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Angsty Schmoop, Anxiety, Artist Bucky Barnes, Artist Steve Rogers, Awkward Sexual Situations, Bisexual Bucky Barnes, Bisexual Male Character, Bisexual Steve Rogers, Bisexuality, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky Barnes Has Issues, Bucky Barnes Needs a Hug, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes Remembers, Bucky Barnes and the 21st Century, Bucky whump, Canon Divergence - Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Character Study, Childhood, Childhood Friends, Childhood Memories, Coming Out, Coming of Age, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Episode Tag, Falling In Love, Fix-It, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Forties era, Great Depression, Introspection, M/M, Memories, Misunderstanding, Modern Bucky Barnes, Non-Graphic Underage sexual situations, Non-Graphic Violence, Past Bucky Barnes/Steve Rogers, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Post-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Serum Steve Rogers, Pre-Slash, Protective Bucky Barnes, Protective Steve Rogers, Psychological Trauma, Puberty, Separation Anxiety, Steve Rogers Feels, Steve Rogers and the 21st Century, Stucky - Freeform, The Winter Soldier - Freeform, Thirties era, Tony Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark misses JARVIS, Using BARF, WWII, Whump, crying boy fetish
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-03
Updated: 2016-08-19
Packaged: 2018-07-29 01:41:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 11
Words: 36,146
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7665406
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WolfenM/pseuds/WolfenM
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>After a heart-to-heart with T'Challa, Tony uses his memory device (with a new feature!) to help Bucky deal with his HYDRA programming -- but first, they witness the love story of Bucky and Steve ....</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This being primarily a coming-of-age tale / the story of Bucky falling in love with Steve as they were growing up, there is some talk of teen sexual situations, and a non-graphic mention of sex between a teen and an adult. Be advised.
> 
> Credit goes to delightfulexess on tumblr for the idea of using BARF on Bucky.
> 
> Disclaimer: Steve Rogers / Captain America, James "Bucky" Barnes / The Winter Soldier, Tony Stark / Iron Man, T'Challa / Black Panther, The Vision, Sam Wilson / Falcon, FRIDAY, Natasha Romanov / Black Widow, JARVIS, Zemo, Sarah Rogers, and Kasumba all © Marvel Entertainment. Characters not used with permission. No profit is being made from this work.

(O)  
"Sir, the King of Wakanda requests permission to land his helicopter on the roof," FRIDAY informed Tony as he turned the burner cell over and over in his hands, reflecting on the accompanying letter he'd just read.

"Uh ... are we sure it's him?"

"As sure as we _can_ be."

"... Fine, permission granted." Even if it turned out to be an enemy (whether it was someone pretending to be T'Challa, or T'Challa wanting to fight for some reason), Tony didn't have anything else going on right now, and had too many thoughts rattling around his brainpan. A diversion would be welcome.

T'Challa was already on the roof, exiting the helicopter, when Tony got there. The man was alone, dressed in his Panther gear, sans the mask and with the addition of a bottle of what looked to be alcohol.

Tony tensed, surprised at the presence of the Panther armour. Remembering what a powerful, skilled fighter the king was, he suddenly wished he'd suited up before coming out. Not that it was ever too late -- his tech could suit him up on the fly -- but would he create an international incident if he did so _now_? At least if he'd done it _before_ he came outside, he could claim he'd been in the suit already, making some tweaks or something.

"No entourage?" Tony quipped. His voice coming out pitched a little high, he failed at sounding casual.

T'Challa spread his hands, smiling. "I come in peace, but that does not mean I cannot take care of myself, should the need arise. In truth, the suit was a concession to my security chief, Kasumba -- she was uncomfortable with the idea of my coming here alone, but no one would demand that the Black Panther have a bodyguard."

"So why _did_ you come alone?"

"I am not here as a king visiting another country, but as a son who has lost a father, reaching out to another such son."

"Reaching out?" Tony frowned. T'Challa had lost his father a couple _decades_ more recently than Tony! Shouldn't the reaching out be the other way around, if it happened at all?

"Perhaps we might get comfortable first?" the not-a-king-right-now suggested, holding up the bottle. "I offer a rare Wakandan liquor ...."

Tony grinned. "Ah! You speak my language!"

Wary but doing his best to not seem so, he led the man down to the common area, grabbing a couple of rock glasses and settling next to a coffee table. He gestured to the plush couch across from his.

Vision was nearby, playing chess; the synthezoid looked at T'Challa in confusion but nodded politely. "Your Highness."

"It is good to see you again, Vision," T'Challa returned as he opened his bottle. "Would you drink with us?"

"Alas, it would be wasted on me, but I appreciate the offer."

"Wasted in that you cannot taste it, or in that it has no effect?"

"Both."

"Ahh, so lucky in the latter, yet so unfortunate in the former," T'Challa observed, pouring a finger in each of the two glasses.

"Just so," Vision agreed with a sad smile.

(Tony made a mental note to work on a way for Vision to do the former -- and maybe a way for everyone else to do the latter.)

T'Challa handed Tony a glass, saying, "I welcome the presence of your friend, but I intend this discussion to be of a ... _personal_ nature. I do not foresee _myself_ saying anything I would be uncomfortable saying in front of him, but I'm not sure how free to speak _you_ would feel ...."

Well, _that_ sounded ominous ....

"Before he was Vision, he was JARVIS, my ... butler. He's already known me at my worst; I don't have any secrets from him."

T'Challa nodded. He then paused in a way that reminded Tony of his mother, when she was about to say something she knew wouldn't go over well .... "You know that I was in Siberia when you were?"

With that reminder, Tony was suddenly feeling significantly less friendly. "Yeah, Ross told me you caught Zemo. Thanks for the back-up against Barnes, and for helping me get home, what with my injuries and everything!" 

Vision was clearly confused by this. "His highness helped you? You were alone when you arrived ...."

"He didn't; that was sarcasm," Tony sighed. "You know, you used to be so much better at detecting that ...." He missed JARVIS.

"Or maybe it's that you're perpetually cranky theses days, and so it's more difficult to tell?" Vision somehow suggested _without_ sounding annoyed.

"I _am_ sorry I was not of more help to you, Tony," the king apologised before Tony could think of something to snap at Vision (it was hard; the synthezoid had a point). "I had to get Zemo into custody," T'Challa went on. "I did come _back_ for you after he was secured, but you were already gone. But speaking of Zemo ... he's actually part of why I'm here. When I found him, he told me a story -- one I think similar to tales you have probably heard from others. The story of how his family died in Sokovia."

Tony suddenly wished he'd pretended he wasn't home when FRIDAY had announced the king's pending arrival.

"He'd wanted vengeance for them -- knowing full well that, in getting it, he was similarly slaughtering innocents," T'Challa continued. "And I asked myself, how am I different? When I went after Barnes in those tunnels, we could have killed someone -- _many_ someones. Moreover, I was so consumed by my hate, I nearly _murdered_ an innocent man."

Anger drove Tony to his feet. " _Innocent?_ Of killing _your_ father, maybe. Not of killing _mine_ \-- or my _mother!_ " He began pacing.

"Actually," T'Challa began carefully, "he _was_ innocent of killing your pare--"

" _Bullshit!_ I _saw_ the footage! Rogers even confessed -- he _knew!_ "

"And yet Captain Rogers refused to hurt him -- even protected him from harm! Think about that a moment, my friend. He has killed before -- but only when it was _necessary_. Rogers has demonstrated a moral compass second to none. He understood Ross was not to be trusted, while we did not. Or _did_ you know about The Raft?"

Tony shook his head. He never would have agreed to that.

"Rogers turned out to be right about his friend's innocence in the bombing, too. Shouldn't we ask ourselves why he trusts the man so much, and why he's so protective of him?"

Tony hadn't -- didn't see the need, frankly. "Every man has a blind spot. Barnes is _his_."

"And our fathers are _ours_. Yet while we were ready to kill Barnes in vengeance for those already gone, Rogers left you alive even though you still present a threat to his oldest, closest friend. But me? When Rogers told me in Romania about Barnes having been brainwashed, I was as _deaf_ as I was blind."

That shut Tony up. He had a spark of memory, now, of Rogers trying to tell him that it wasn't Bucky who'd killed his parents, that HYDRA had made the man do it. Tony had thought Rogers was lying, or deluding himself ... well, no, Tony hadn't really been thinking at _all_. He'd said he didn't care, and he'd meant it. He'd only cared that he'd missed his mom for forever, and there was suddenly this man he could blame and punish, the way he couldn't really do with the wrecked car (though he'd certainly tried) -- or with his late father, the driver.

"As I understand it," T'Challa continued, "American justice is much like that of Wakanda -- innocent until _proven_ guilty. You and I both know how easily images can be manipulated, yet your government put out a kill-order on Barnes, meaning he would be denied a trial. _We_ were willing to kill him without a trial. Even that video was not _truly_ proof. Was it?"

Tony's brilliant mind failed him. He sat heavily, then swallowed down the Wakandan beverage, coughing at the potency. "No," he admitted when he could breathe again.

Thinking back on Cap's words, Tony realised Cap might not have actually _known_ Bucky killed his parents, only _suspected_ it. If Tony had been told Rhodey had killed someone, he sure as hell would make sure his best friend would get a trial! But ... "Barnes admitted to it, though! I asked if he remembered killing them, and he said he ... oh." Tony just realised what he was saying, stomach sinking. "He just said he _remembered_ all of them." Now that he thought on it, there had been a note of regret in the man's voice. "That doesn't actually mean he _meant_ to kill anyone, does it?"

"No, it does not," T'Challa agreed.

"Brainwashed, you said?" Tony had a little idea of what that was like, thanks to the Scarlet Witch. Wanda, who had forgiven him for the death of her family, understanding that he hadn't meant for it to happen. And Tony hadn't had brainwashing as an excuse for his actions, either.

Tchalla pulled an SD card put of his pocket. "I pulled some of this off the computers in Siberia." Tony blanched -- he really should have done that himself! "Natasha sent me more. I think you will find it all ... enlightening." He laid it on the table and stood up, leaving his rock glass untouched. "I will leave that for you. I think you will need it."

(O)

T'Challa hadn't been kidding.

Vision was going through the SD card with him; they were looking at everything on the big screen TV together, as if it were movie night -- only not fun. They hadn't actually started off with the HYDRA files, though -- for context, Vision had suggested they read up on Barnes _before_ his Winter Soldier days. He did seem like a pretty good guy, Tony had to admit. Loyal, brave, blah, blah. Tony hadn't really had a best friend like that growing up, but he supposed he could see how precious it would be. And he supposed he could believe Barnes wasn't some villain, could work up some sympathy for the man ... _if_ Cap and T'Challa were right about the man's innocence. And, well, if Tony were being honest ... it was getting harder to believe Barnes _wasn't_ innocent.

The HYDRA files were in Russian or German, of course; Vision read them aloud, translated, looking pretty ill as he did so. They weren't even two pages into the HYDRA file on how the Winter Soldier was created, before Tony broke into a cold sweat. He had a feeling he was gonna drink that whole damn bottle before the night was over.

"'The super-serum apparently makes the usual amount of drugs completely ineffectual,'" Vision read. "'We'd barely begun cutting away the remainder of the subject's upper arm, when he woke, screaming. We opted to finish the procedure without another dose, to test his threshold of pain, and he didn't pass out at all! Remarkable!'"

And their assault on the man apparently was mental as much as physical ....

"'As has been noted in previous trials, the serum seems to enhance the personality traits that were there before treatment. Given that the subject has demonstrated an undying devotion to his friend Steve Rogers (and, for that matter, unfailing loyalty to both his comrades in arms in particular and his country in general), I had high hopes that he would prove a perfectly compliant soldier, ready and willing to serve at all costs -- after we erased his history from his mind, of course. Once that was done, as noted in file 1719-1, we told him he was a soldier who volunteered for love of Mother Russia.

"'Today was the first mission (see attached for details) -- and it went like a dream! No hesitation, no remorse, and a complete success! Three targets, one bullet -- incredible! But then, he was said to be an exceptional shot _before_ the serum, so that's something else the serum might have accentuated. He seems immune to praise, though -- he was just as cold receiving accolades as he was during his mission briefing. Such a sourpuss. Well, so long as he obeys, right? And he doesn't fight the treatment, even if he does scream like a banshee. Otherwise, he just puts up with the pain, resigned to his fate -- a dream soldier!'"

Seemingly endless pages of a horror novel later, they moved on to the files Zemo had brought to the bunker in Siberia.

"'The Soldier remembered Howard Stark, and began to protest that he didn't want to kill his friend. When I ordered him wiped, he fought us, killing a tech before we got him restrained. I have said before, we need to do the procedure both before and after _every_ mission! Looking back at the files, I see he has been on _three_ missions without my being consulted, and _none_ of the handlers performed the procedure!'"

Tony found himself reaching for a trash can and being quietly sick.

Barnes had tried to _protect_ Tony's father, and was a victim every bit as much as Tony's parents were -- no, far, far more, because at least _they_ weren't tortured for years!

And here Tony had tried to _kill_ the man.

He had to make things right.

"The latest additions to BARF are complete," Friday revealed just then, startling Tony out of his reverie.

If he were a godly man, he'd probably have seen it as a "sign". (Well, he supposed he _did_ see it that way regardless, since he was acting on it.)

"Hey, Viz, I have an idea. Tell me what you think ...."

Vision thought Tony's idea was worth a shot, and _probably_ wouldn't end catastrophically ....

As soon as he and Vision were done testing things on BARF the next day (Vision had demanded Tony sleep), Tony took the burner phone out of his pocket and called the only number in the contact list.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After a demonstration of the new, improved BARF, Bucky "Snow White" Barnes is woken up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: I don't consider the prequel comic to be canon. It's negated some by the difference in Steve's age when his mother dies, compared to the film, after all. I don't think it fits the film narrative to have Steve and Bucky meet so late in life -- when Steve is twelve, IIRC, according to the comic. (Also, I really don't like how skeevy they make Bucky be in the life-drawing class. The first thing we were taught when I took such a class was to bear in mind how vulnerable the model is and be respectful, not leering. Having a healthy sex life and being flirtatious does not mean one must, by default, also be a misogynistic perv!)

= * =  
Steve went on instant high alert when the burner phone in his pocket rang.

"Hey, uh ... I-it's me ...." came Tony's distinctive voice.

"Are you all right?" He didn't _sound_ in trouble ....

"Oh! Yeah, yeah, I just ... I ... I wanna apologise."

Steve let out a sigh of relief; Tony went on before Steve could apologise himself in turn.

"I should have heard you out -- about the accords, and especially about Barnes. And I'm sorry I ... well, that I _attacked_ him. And you."

Steve was surprised, but happy Tony had apparently not only accepted his peace offering, but Bucky's innocence. And, really ... "Tony, I understand _why_ \--"

"No, listen -- I read the files. God, those files! I wouldn't wish what was done to him on my worst enemy! Which brings me to my second reason for calling: I wanna help."

Steve hated that the warning bells were going off in his head, but there it was: despite his relief a moment ago, he now worried that this was a trap. But this was Tony -- they would have mended fences already if not for the assassination of Howard. Tony had even come out to Siberia to help! So Steve would hear the man out -- especially if there was a chance that doing so would help Bucky! "What do you have in mind?"

"When ... when I was attacking Barnes, I asked him if he remembered killing my parents, and he replied that he remembered _everyone_. I figure he's gotta be suffering. So I was thinking ... I have this device I've been developing that helps with traumatic memories. It allows the wearer to relive memories, but sort of ... _rewrite_ them. So, say someone didn't get to tell a loved one goodbye, or they had an arguement, and the person died, they could relive the memory and get to say what they would have."

Steve wasn't sure that would really help -- the past wouldn't be erased. What would Bucky do, apologise to figments of his imagination? He didn't want to discourage Tony, though, so instead, he said, "Bucky is in cryo-sleep."

"He's _what? Why??_ "

Steve struggled to keep his voice from cracking. "He doesn't want to risk someone triggering his programming. He's staying frozen until we figure out how to break it."

Tony was silent a long moment. "Give me a sec," he said. Steve could hear muffled mumbling, then, "Vision and I think my device can help there, too. If he can relive the moment he was programmed, maybe we can interfere -- disrupt the memory so the programming doesn't take!"

Part of Steve didn't think it would work, but another part of him wanted to try, would do anything to get Bucky back -- and that part was louder. Still ....

At his lack of response, Tony sighed. "I understand. Between Ultron, the airport, and Siberia, I've lost your trust."

Steve couldn't lie, but, "It's not that, _exactly_ \--"

"No, it's fine, I wouldn't trust me either -- in fact, I _don't_. But I realise now, I was going to the wrong people for oversight. I get now why my dad ... why he spoke so highly of you. I called you sanctimonious, but the truth is, I kinda _envy_ that moral compass of yours, Cap. Knowing what's right seems to come so easily for you."

Steve shook his head, even if Tony couldn't see it. "It actually _doesn't_ , Tony. I second-guess myself all the time! I lucked out that Bucky was innocent -- but I would have protected him even if he wasn't."

"Except that you're the best judge of character I've ever seen -- no close friend of yours would be a monster. Even if Barnes had been guilty of the bombing, it would have turned out his programming was at fault, like ... like with what he did to my parents. Anyway, like I said, you're right to be wary with me -- I would be too; I don't make the best life choices. I own that, and Pepper would second it. But Barnes has lost enough of his life -- the sooner he can get help, the better. Is there someone you would trust to look over the tech?"

Steve immediately thought of the Wakandan scientists -- the people who were watching over Bucky at that very moment. "Yeah ... yeah, there is."

"Perfect. You make the arrangements, and let us know where to meet them."

Steve hated to say this, but, "No Vision. Just you." The synth was loyal to Tony, and if this was a trap, or Stark turned against him again ....

" ... Okay, that's fair."

"You also willing to make several flights, give up your phone for a while, and be thoroughly searched, with any and all tech confiscated?"

With the long silence, Steve thought that was it, that Tony was insulted and retracting his offer (and he couldn't blame him, but he couldn't risk Bucky's location being compromised by some sort of tracking device, or by Tony putting out some kind of alert). Then ....

"Thoroughly searched, huh? I better get dinner outta this."

Steve smiled, relieved. "You got it."

(O)  
Tony had been flying for _hours_ after being picked up by a (windowless, save for the cock-pit) private jet in New York, and he'd been blindfolded immediately upon landing. If not for the fact that it was Cap who'd arranged this, with passwords even, Tony would, frankly, be terrified. As it was, he was only a little anxious (and even that only because he was flash-backing a tad to the hood in Afghanistan). Tony liked to think of the people surrounding him as his entourage, never mind that they had blindfolded him with the bulkiest, most high-tech "blindfold" ever. (Seriously, it was _locked_ around his head! Good thing he was used to his helmet, or he might get claustrophobic ...). Hey, at least he was being wheeled around in a chair, rather than dragged stumbling through unknown halls! In fact, he was half-tempted to take a nap ....

And then the chair came to a halt, and the blindfold was removed. He blinked against the sudden brightness. When his eyes cleared, Cap's smile was almost as bright. Well, it was until it fell into chagrin.

"It's good to 'see' you, Cap," Tony chuckled, holding out his hand. He slowly let out a sigh of relief when Steve shook it firmly, no hesitation.

"You too, Tony. Thank you for coming. Sorry about all the ...." Steve gestured at the blindfold-helmet-thingee, now on the table.

Tony was struck then -- and not for the first time, either -- by how Steve seemed both startlingly young and ancient at the same time.

"De nada," Tony assured him.

Tony knew full well these measures wouldn't have been necessary if Tony hadn't done a _number_ of things. Steve had only been "guilty" of defending an innocent man, refusing to enter into a dubious contract (in retrospect, Tony should have had Pepper look the Accords over before signing himself), and of not telling Tony something that, truth be told, Steve had been under no obligation to reveal. A secret that Steve had seen as a kindness to keep -- and Tony wasn't sure he would have handled things any differently, were he in Steve's shoes. (It wasn't all that different from keeping the fact that he was _dying_ from Pepper, Rhodey, and Happy, right?)

Movement caught Tony's eye; if not for that, he probably never would have noticed the man standing in the corner.

"So I _am_ in Wakanda," Tony decided. It had been a strong possibility, given the head of Tony's escort, a woman with a Wakandan accent who scared him even more than Romanov did. And now, here was the country's king ....

"You are so certain?" T'Challa smiled. "We have an embassy in New York, you know. We could gave just flown in circles for hours."

"Ah, but technically, being in your embassy would be pretty much like being in Wakanda!" Tony retorted before turning to the scary lady. "You have my stuff?"

The woman looked to her king without replying.

"It is fine, Kasumba," T'Challa assured her. "I am certain that he is here because I showed him the truth, and he believed it."

"You did?" Steve asked, surprised. "So _that's_ why you ...."

"Had a change of heart? Yeah," Tony nodded. "You can thank Natasha, too -- she provided a big chunk of the files T'Challa gave me. Have I mentioned I'm really, really sorry I didn't listen sooner?"

"Tone, like I tried to tell you on the phone ... I don't blame you for not," Steve replied quietly. "But thank you for listening now."

Kasumba didn't look convinced of Tony's sincerity, but nonetheless turned to a woman behind them, one almost as bad-ass, who laid Tony's case down on a table in front of yet another woman, this one in a lab-coat. Tony moved to open the case, but Kasumba stopped him short (a bit painfully) with a hand to his chest.

Oh. Right. "Password is vertical bar, greater-than sign, 3, capital P, lowercase p, lowercase e, capital r." He hoped he didn't blush as furiously as it _felt_ like he was doing.

"Leetspeak?" Steve grinned.

How did -- oh. "Tasha teach you that?"

"A little," Steve shrugged.

At least the man wasn't teasing him about his password subject. (But then, Steve wouldn't. That was what _Tony_ would do in such a situation.)

"Tasha seems a good friend to have," T'Challa remarked.

"I'd offer to set you two up, but I think you have a better idea of where she is right now than I do," Tony teased.

Sitting back down in his wheelchair, Tony walked the woman in the labcoat -- Dr Aya -- through the items in the case, including how to set up the holographic emitters. He might have let himself feel a smidge of pride whenever she praised the tech. By her accent, she too was Wakandan, and Tony had, in recent years, been coming to find that her people were amongst the most technologically advanced on the planet -- meaning it would take a _lot_ to impress her ... or her king, for that matter.

And impress them he apparently did when Aya tried it out. Tears of wonder made her eyes glitter as she beheld a woman and child baking cookies together -- her younger self and her late mother, she explained.

"I knew her -- she looks just as remember her," T'Challa breathed, clearly delighted as he walked around the scene, studying it. There was a rosy pink aura over the mother's head, like a halo, and the child had a shining white one.

Even better than the scientist's happy tears or the king's awe was the cautiously hopeful look on Steve's face. "What's the story with the auras?" the man asked.

"Something I just added, actually," Tony revealed. "The aura around the memory-holder shows how they were feeling in general, or about themselves, at the time, while the aura around others shows their feelings about that person in that moment. Depending on whether the colour is around the patient or the person their interacting with, the colours can have different meanings. Is it okay if we have Freud explain theses auras?" he asked Aya, who nodded. "Freud, please translate."

"The rosy pink suggests the love the patient feels for the subject," BARF's AI explained, sounding like a German man. "The brightness of the white light signifies that the patient felt great joy in that moment."

Steve's delight faded into his all-too-familiar worried look. "How easy is it to control? I don't want Bucky to accidentally show something he doesn't want to share."

"I had to concentrate in order to show this," the scientist replied. "I thought about a few other possible memories, but they did not appear."

Steve nodded, looking relieved, but the note of caution was still there in his eyes.

"Why don't you give it a go?" Tony suggested.

The scientist held out the glasses, and Steve accepted them with only the slightest of hesitations. He wore them for a solid thirty seconds before an image appeared: a blond boy of about three or four coming to sit alone on a bench in a park, watching a gaggle of five-or-six-year-old boys playing tag. The blond had a blue-grey aura hovering over his head like a cloud of gloom; by his hang-dog expression, it wasn't hard to guess the child was sad.

One of the boys -- the only one with an aura of a tentative, sunny yellow -- took note of him and walked over. "Hey, Stevie, you wanna play?"

Stevie smiled, and his aura grew white, the other boy's yellow aura brightening.

"Forget it," another kid nearby called out -- a taller boy, with an aura of black-speckled dark red. "Weezy'll fall down if you even just _breathe_ on 'em funny!"

Stevie suddenly had a burgundy aura streaked with dark, neon, cobalt-blue light.

"Anybody'd fall down if _you_ breathed on 'em, dragon-breath!" the first boy snapped back, sitting beside little Steve. The yellow glow around the defender flashed gold for a moment, and the white returned to Stevie. "You like checkers?" he asked Stevie, gesturing to a stone table with a chessboard and two stone seats.

Stevie perked up, even as he pointed out, "We don't have any pieces ...."

"I got chalk, though," the boy replied, pulling a piece out of his pocket and sitting at the table. He began to write "B"s on the spaces on his side of the board. Steve sat eagerly on the other side, his face alight. His aura and the other boy's were almost too bright to look at, the yellow taking on a slight gradation of pink in the center.

"Shall I translate the auras?" Freud asked.

Tony looked to the grown-up Steve. "You can turn the auras off, if you want," he offered, running a quick glance at all the extra people in the room -- Aya, Kasumba, and T'Challa.

Steve hesitated only a short moment, seeming firm in his decision once it was made."No, it's okay. Uh, go ahead and translate, Freud."

"The blue-grey signified depression, the burgundy embarrassment, and cobalt was anxiety. The red on the boy who teased him was anger, while the black was hate." That last shocked Tony, that Steve could feel hate at all -- especially as a child .... "The yellow on the friendly boy is for friendship, the gold represents the admiration Stevie felt for him, and the pink signifies affection."

"Bucky's parents and mine were friends, so we'd pretty much always known each other," Steve revealed, "but this was the first time I realised what a true friend _he_ was to _me_. The first time I can remember where someone other than my mother looked out for me and sought my company."

And this, Tony saw, was what began a lifelong friendship -- the sort that explained why Steve would sacrifice everything for Bucky.

"Is Bucky older?" Tony asked, suddenly not so sure little Stevie was as young as he seemed.

Steve nodded as he handed the glasses back to Tony. "A little over a year. Since my dad was gone and Ma had to work, she enrolled me early in kindergarten, so Bucky and I ended up in the same class in school. But I'd always been small for my age, so he was always having to defend me from guys who thought I was actually even younger. And add asthma, a weak heart, and a half-dozen other health issues on top of that ...."

Tony's heart broke a little more. He'd known Steve hadn't been as buff before the serum, but not that he'd been so very, very sickly! The world owed Captain America so much; maybe it owed Barnes just as much for keeping Steve safe until he could have the treatment that created Cap.

"So whaddya think?" Tony asked, waving the glasses.

Steve nodded thoughtfully. "I think it wouldn't _hurt_. We just have to shut the programme off if things go sideways, right? But it's up to Bucky whether or not we try in the first place."

"Right, of course!" Tony hurriedly agreed. "So ... what next?"

"We go wake him up," Steve replied, heading to the door.

"He's _here_?" Tony asked unnecessarily as they came into a room just down the hall. (No wonder no one had put the blindfold back on him!)

There Barnes slept in a reclined glass "coffin", a la Snow White -- complete with shoulder-length dark hair, but sans dwarves. Well, unless you counted Sam Wilson (never mind his height), who glared at Tony like Tony was a con man trying to sell a poisoned apple. Did that make Steve Prince Charming?

Stupid question.

Steve nodded once to Wilson, but otherwise, he only had eyes for Barnes, walking straight up to the tube and laying his hand on the glass. The pained expression on his face was pretty at odds the peaceful one Barnes wore. Steve stayed where he was through the whole defrosting process. He perked up, riveted on Barnes like a dog being offered a treat, as the man started to stir, head lolling and eyelids fluttering. The tube opened, sliding under Steve's fingers, the digits immediately resting on his friend's arm once the glass was out of his way. Eyes still closed, Barnes somehow turned his head towards Steve, like a flower seeking sun.

And then Barnes _was_ the sun, his smile blinding when he finally opened his eyes and saw his friend. "Steve!" He choked back a sob, and Tony realised the man was crying. He struggled a little to sit up, until Steve, impatient, pulled him into a tight hug. "I wasn't sure I'd ever see you again ...." Barnes admitted, words muffled by Steve's neck.

"I wouldn't have let you stay in there forever, even if we never found a cure," Steve promised.

Barnes pulled back, looking alarmed. "But you _have_ found one, right?"

Tony shifted on his feet just then, attracting the man's notice like a prey animal with a predator. In that instant, Tony thought he was a goner. Barnes seemed to move almost as fast as Pietro Maximoff, coming to stand in front of Steve, his hand extended -- in a placating gesture. His expression was one of wariness, not anger.

Barnes was simply placing himself between Steve and a potential threat, Tony realised. He was protecting, not attacking.

"I'm here to help, not hurt," Tony said, raising his own hands. "I'm unarmed." It was then Tony noticed the man's left side. "Well, granted, you're _more_ unarmed," he pointed out stupidly, unsure even if he was talking to Barnes or himself.

Barnes blinked, looking down at his shoulder, the stub of the remainder of his metal arm covered by black cloth. Then, he began to laugh. Steve immediately joined in with the laugh of the hysterically relieved, then Sam did, then Tony. T'Challa's laugh was more natural, no strain. Aya seemed bewildered; Kasumba, unamused.

"I'm ... I'm really, really sorry about that," Tony finally managed between gasps, gesturing to the stump.

Barnes sobered. "Don't be. I did far worse to you -- to your _family_."

"But that's just it -- _you_ didn't. _HYDRA_ did. HYDRA broke you -- and I'm gonna try to _fix_ you. That's the best revenge on them I can get. Well, if you're interested, that is -- totally understandable of you want nothing to do with me."

Barnes turned to Steve, looking uncertain; Steve nodded, and Barnes relaxed, nodding to Tony in turn.

"You might want to wait till I explain the plan before saying yes," Tony warned, immediately kicking himself mentally for trying to talk Barnes _out_ of being treated.

Barnes shrugged. "I trust Steve."

Tony felt all the more guilty for not trusting Steve himself in the first place. Maybe half the team wouldn't be on the run now if he had.

"So ... what _is_ the plan?" Barnes asked.

"It'll be easier if I show you," Tony suggested. "Shall we?" He pointed to the door. Barnes nodded, and Tony led everyone to the room where, with Dr Aya's help (after she gave Barnes a check-up), he explained and then demonstrated how BARF worked. Barnes seemed to grasp it all pretty well, thankfully, and didn't hesitate in taking the glasses when offered -- though he did take a deep breath before putting them on.

"You're not going under the sea, Dory; _breathe_ ," Tony chided. "You should start with a good memory, something before the military, and ease up to your ... ah ... _captivity_."

Nodding, Barnes slowly released the breath. As he did, an image formed.

It was the same memory Steve had shared.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because a few people have asked about it, to clarify: Tony's leetspeak password is NOT "I ❤ Pper", it's just "Pepper". "|>" is a "P", "3" is an "e". :)


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky and Steve: early childhood ....

(O)  
For a moment, Tony thought BARF had malfunctioned, until he realised the angle they were seeing the memory from was different (and not just because he was standing in a different place), and the auras were, more or less, flipped. The aura over Stevie fluctuated, though, a steady, slow strobe of cycling colour-patterns, not just yellow tinged with pink, as Bucky's had been for Steve.

"Shall I translate the auras?" Freud asked.

"Yes," Barnes replied without hesitation.

"Wait, should we leave the room?" Steve asked, looking a little pink-cheeked.

"No," Barnes answered firmly. "I might need restraining when I reach the ... well, what we're looking for. Besides, Hydra ripped my head apart, left me basically naked; if I had no secrets from _them_ , I sure as _hell_ don't wanna keep any from _you_."

Tony felt sick, almost protesting the plan after all. Barnes hadn't known privacy for decades; if it weren't for how well the man had hidden for the last few years, Tony wouldn't believe Barnes even remembered the _concept_. But then Freud was talking, and Tony's curiosity got the better of him.

"The light blue of the patient-avatar's own aura signifies an amiable, calm mood, while the gold stripes signify confidence. The sunny-yellow aura tinged with pink, the white aura with gold flecks, the blue-grey aura, and the bright red-orange aura over the boy called 'Stevie' shows that young Bucky feels friendly and affectionate towards Stevie, feels happy around him and admires him, but the patient is also sad and concerned for him, and protective towards him. And of course the dark red and black over the antagonistic boy depicts the anger and hate the patient feels towards _him_."

Tony couldn't help but notice that Bucky hated the boy even more than "Stevie" had.

"Sad and concerned -- in other words, you pitied me," Steve remarked ruefully. "I guess I _was_ kinda _pathetic_ back then ...."

Barnes looked alarmed. "Steve, _no_ , I--"

"Begging your pardon, Captain Rogers, but if I _meant_ he pitied you, I would have _said_ so," Freud assured them a tad sassily, reminding Tony with a painful sting of his now-gone JARVIS. "Pity is generally reserved for strangers or those one is emotionally distant from. When one feels pity, one does not really participate in the pain of the one one is pitying.

"Patient Barnes, however," the AI continued, "seems to have always been rather empathetic to you. Although you weren't that close at that point, he already felt an attachment -- and as such, took slights against you as personal injury to himself. He was sad and angry on your younger self's behalf, able to imagine what being excluded must feel like -- and feeling it was wrong for the other children to exclude you. Moreover, it seems he felt you were more worthy of his friendship than anyone else in that park, and wanted you to be able to know your worth, just as he did."

It was then that Tony noticed the other boys had only a faint yellow aura, if anything.

"In other words, he felt bad _with_ you because he cared greatly about you, rather than only cared a little about you because he felt sorry _for_ you," Freud clarified.

"You remember what happened earlier that day?" Barnes asked Steve.

They saw the boys in school, drawing at their desks, Stevie with a yellow aura, Bucky with light blue. A pair of girls cooed over the drawing of the kid Bucky had called "dragon-breath", one of them showing it off to the class. Tony didn't think it was particularly special, himself. Standing over young Bucky, he thought Bucky's drawing was better, but still -- kid drawings were kid drawings. Bucky had stopped drawing, though, and was looking at the paper Stevie was working on.

"Wow!" Bucky breathed, catching the attention of the teacher. She came over, bending for a better look; so did Tony.

Maybe it wasn't exactly Rembrandt, but it was clearly a horse, parts more or less properly proportioned and in all the right places. This in a room where drawings of humans were almost universally represented by rectangles for bodies, thin lines for limbs, and circles with scribble-hair.

As the teacher held the art up, Stevie had a white-and-gold aura, Bucky looking back and forth between the art and the artist with an expression akin to awe.

The girls who had been fawning over dragon-breath's art, now squealed over Stevie's.

"Draw me a pony, Stevie!" one begged, the other echoing the request.

"There ain't no way he drawed that!" Dragon-Breath protested. "He stoled it from somebody, or somebody drawed it for him!"

"Nuh-uh! I _saw_ him drawin' it!" Bucky protested.

"Calm down, Bucky. Billy, why would you think that?" the teacher asked.

"He's only four! My little brother's four, and he can't draw nothin'!"

"Well, everyone is different. Take Mozart -- he was playing _classical music_ when _he_ was just four!"

The gold in Stevie's aura increased, before the scene froze.

"You weren't just a great artist, either," Barnes told Steve. "You were the smartest kid I'd ever seen. Most kids woulda been outta their depth starting school as early as you did -- I mean, four years old, _wow_! -- but you outshone _everyone!_ Even that loud-mouthed six-goin'-on-seven-year-old, Billy! That's half of why the other kids picked on you -- cause they didn't like bein' shown up by a kid a year or more younger than them. But _me?_ Me, you _impressed_. And in that moment, I realised you would grow up to be someone _great_ , like Mozart, if you just had half a chance -- so I decided to stand between you and the people who might try to stop you." Barnes reached out and grabbed Steve's hand, his expression pleading for Steve to understand and believe Freud.

Blushing and looking amazed, Steve squeezed Bucky's hand back, in a grip Tony suspected would break anyone else's hand. " _You_ were my _first_ shield," Steve realised.

Bucky beamed. "And I was _right_ about you bein' _great_ someday, _Captain America!_ "

Steve ducked his head. "Well, I dunno about _that_ \-- but pretty soon, the world's gonna see how great _you_ are!"

Bucky's smile faltered, hand slipping free of Steve's. "I'd settle for not being a _threat_ to anyone."

"You _won't_ be," Tony spoke up before Steve could object. "Now let's cut the Mutual Appreciation Society stuff and get this show back on the road, huh? What's the next stop on memory lane?"

The memories came fast and furious for a minute, scenes of the boys getting to know one another, having fun together -- and sometimes fighting other kids together, though it was mostly a matter of Bucky coming to Stevie's rescue. The pink of little Stevie's otherwise-yellow aura was ever-increasing -- but the blue-grey in Stevie's third aura was becoming darker and run through with a bolt of neon cobalt, as well as becoming spotted with a sickly green. Bucky's main aura was alternately white with joy, sometimes with flashes of pink for laughter, and otherwise a calm bluish-white, but he had also taken on another aura -- one mirroring Stevie's blue-gray one.

"The cobalt and green signify the patient's anxiety and fear for his friend's health, as well as his safety, as bullies are an ever-present threat," Freud interpreted. Tony noted that those colours grew stronger, more pervasive though the blue-grey, as their friendship grew.

The flashbacks settled on a memory. Little Bucky and Stevie, looking about nine and eight respectively (well, taking into account their actual age gap; Stevie _looked_ more like _seven_ ), were playing chess in the park, when some other boys approached with baseball equipment.

"Hey, Bucky! We need another player -- you in?" one asked.

"Nah, I'm busy, guys," Bucky told them, eyes on the pieces.

"You should play!" Stevie insisted. "It's not fair you can't just because _I_ can't!"

"Who says I _want_ to?" Bucky scoffed, moving a piece.

Stevie was silent a moment. "What if _I_ want you to? Just because I can't play doesn't mean I can't _watch_. You're good, Buck. Like, maybe you could play pro some day! But you gotta practice! And then maybe I could go see you play in other cities!"

Bucky sat back with a fond but exasperated smile, an expression beyond his years. His white aura had flecks of gold -- he was flattered. Stevie's first aura in the rotation, the sunny yellow, grew a little pinker -- it was very nearly as pink as it was yellow now. He and Stevie were becoming ever-closer friends. "All right, all right, twist my arm why don'tcha!"

Bucky got up to play, and time fast-forwarded to the game in full swing. lt seemed almost no one could get a hit with Bucky as pitcher. Stevie, serving as bat-boy, cheered from the dugout, slapping Bucky on the back when his team came off the field. Bucky's main aura, the white of happiness, was striped gold -- representing the kind of pride that comes when the patient has pleased a loved one, Freud explained -- as he threw a companionable arm around Stevie, laughing.

Another day. Bucky was about ten, dressed in winter gear, knocking on a door inside an apartment building. There was no answer. His blue-white aura began to grey, his sunny demeanor growing concerned. He tried knocking again, more insistently.

A neighboring door opened, revealing a cranky-looking old woman in a house dress. "They're at the hospital. Boy took sick during the night."

Concern quickly morphed into fear, Bucky's aura going green with cobalt lightning. "Thank you, ma'am!" he shouted as he raced for the stairs.

The next moment, they saw him running down a hospital hallway, shouting for his friend and Mrs Rogers, ignoring commands from various adults to slow down and be quiet. A nurse hurried over. Even without hearing her call out the boy's name, Tony would have guessed she was Steve's mother, seeing the resemblance: the same sandy hair and wistful, kind eyes. Like Stevie before, she glowed yellow-and pink -- Bucky clearly respected and was fond of her. She guided him to a room where Stevie slept, wheezing.

She told him Stevie had pneumonia, and the doctors weren't very hopeful he would survive. She couldn't stay with him -- in fact, she had to work extra to pay the hospital bill, so he could stay. Bucky assured her that he would stay with Stevie while she worked.

The clock sped up. Bucky had to go to school, but he came every day after and stayed all through visiting hours. His aura was near-constantly blue-grey with green and cobalt, while Stevie's was yellow-and-pink (actually, Tony reckoned it was _equally_ pink and yellow at the start of the stay, and getting a little pinker all the time). Bucky would read to Stevie, whether his friend was awake or not. His family often came too, bringing food for Mrs Rogers. And little by little, Stevie improved.

They saw Bucky being tucked in by his mother one night. "Now remember, no stayin' up and peakin' on Santa!" she warned.

"Ma, I'm too old for Santa!" Bucky laughed. He quickly sobered. "Besides, if he were real, I'd _have_ to come down to see him -- so I could tell him to take whatever he'd brought me back."

"What?" she asked, bemused. "Did you change your mind or somethin?"

"Yeah. I'd ask him to make Stevie well instead. Not just not have pneumonia, neither, but ... _healthy_ , ya know?"

His mother smiled sadly. "I know, baby. I wish for that too. You're a sweet kid." She kissed his brow.

Back at the hospital, the Barnes family brought holiday trappings with them -- food, a stocking for Stevie, presents, even a small tree. Bucky's little sister told Stevie (who was still bedridden but seemed much livelier) that Santa had brought his presents to his house, not knowing he'd temporarily moved, so her parents had gone to his house to get them. Upon hearing that, Bucky gave his mother a small, knowing glance and a nod of gratitude.

Bucky had his own present for Stevie: his favourite stuffed toy, a bear he'd had since he was two and simply called "Bear".

"But Bucky! I can't take your best friend!"

" _You're_ my best friend, ya goofball! That's why I'm orderin' this guy to look after ya when I'm not around."

"But ... I-I don't have a present for _you_!"

A flash of what Freud described as ochre meant Bucky felt bad. Then, "Stevie, if you _have_ to give someone a present because they gave _you_ one, that's not a present; it's a trade. Bear is a present; end of story."

Steve looked at the bear, thoughtfully. "All right, then. You can stay with me," he told it. "But you're still Bucky's Bear."

"Bucky Bear! Bucky Bear!" Bucky's baby sister echoed, laughing.

"I gave Bucky Bear to your youngest sister before I left," Steve revealed to Barnes. "Your great-niece now has him."

The scene faded into another moment. Bucky, looking about eleven, was in a kitchen, dressed in shorts and a white undershirt (so Tony wasn't sure if he was dressed for the day or not), eating cereal while it was still dark outside. His mother, in a robe and looking bleary-eyed, came into the room. "What's got you up so early?"

"Gonna go for a run."

"At _5:30_ in the morning?"

"Yeah. I figure, this way I can get a bit more exercise in. Stevie can't run around a whole lot, ya know?"

"Well, that's sweet, but why don't you just meet him later in the day, so you don't have to get up so early?"

Bucky grew solemn. "Yesterday, when Mrs. Rogers came home, she was crying. Stevie asked her what was wrong, and she said a little boy with asthma was brought in because he couldn't breathe, but they couldn't save him. And I got to thinkin' ... Stevie almost died from pneumonia, and he has asthma; who knows how much time _Stevie_ has on this Earth? I don't wanna waste a second of it."

"Oh, sweetie! _None_ of us know how long we have--"

"Then I don't wanna waste any of _my_ time, either!" Bucky replied, grinning cheekily. Then his smile grew serious. "Besides, if I tire myself out first, I'll be less likely to tire _him_ out, right? And the better shape I'm in, the better I can look out fer 'im."

Mrs Barnes looked like she was about to cry as she kissed the crown of her son's head. "Little Stevie is lucky to have you for a friend."

Bucky chuckled. "You got it all wrong, Ma -- I'm doin' this 'cause _I'm_ lucky to have _him_."

"How often ...?" grown-up Steve asked, looking near tears himself.

"Almost every morning of my pre-war life after that, weather permitting -- sometimes even when it wasn't," Barnes replied with a fond look. Then he turned a bit grim. "And it's a good thing I did."

The boys, roughly twelve and eleven, were walking in the park. They came upon some older boys -- fifteen, maybe? -- tormenting a cat. Stevie demanded they stop; the neon-blue-and-sickly-green in his blue-gray aura intensified dramatically, as did the protective bright red-orange, each becoming more prolonged in their appearance in the rotation, though the pink-and-yellow one was still there -- and noticeably more pink than yellow. Bucky's own aura was exclusively cobalt-blue-and-sickly-green.

"Stevie, come on," Bucky pleaded, tugging at his friend's sleeve.

One of the bullies pulled a knife, charging with a scream. Aura entirely green now, Bucky ran, pulling a stumbling Stevie after him. Stevie regained his footing, and was surprisingly quick -- for all of a block, before he collapsed, gasping. Barely pausing, Bucky gathered Stevie in his arms, carrying him while running block after block, stopping only when he got inside an emergency room, four or five blocks away. He was gasping himself as he cried out for help, arms trembling as he gently lowered a gasping Stevie to the floor.

Mrs Rogers saw them, dropping the medicine in her hand on a cart and hurrying over. She gathered her son up and carried him to a room where she administered a nebulizer treatment; Bucky, still trembling and breathing heavily, followed her, and held Stevie's hand through the treatment.

Mrs Rogers got called back to work. "Can you get him to a chair when it's done, and stay with him till my shift ends at three?" she asked Bucky. The boy nodded, and she kissed his brow. "Thank you, sweetie. I don't know what we would do without you lookin' after him."

The flash of gold in Bucky's aura -- pride -- was so quick, it might as well have never happened. Stevie's aura relaxed into it's normal cycle, more often the pink-and-yellow than the other aura colour-schemes. Bucky's own aura was primarily blue-gray, with threads of the neon cobalt and spots of sickly green -- depression, anxiety, and fear, Freud explained.

"I worried that, whatever I did, one day it wouldn't be enough, and Stevie would die. I felt ... powerless," Barnes explained.

Still glitter-eyed, grown-up Steve threw a rueful, apologetic look at Barnes. "I really was a handful, huh?" 

"Thankfully, I worried for nothing," Barnes pointed out, smiling. 

"Not for nothing; it's _because_ you worried -- because you _cared_ \-- that I _lived_!"

"Either way, I don't regret a second of cobalt or green on your behalf," Barnes quipped, eyes soft.

Tony started to suspect something about the nature of the relationship between Steve and his friend -- well, about the feelings Barnes had for Steve, anyway. He stole a look at Sam; the man looked to be having similar thoughts, his expression a mix of surprise and sympathy.

Little Stevie stirred, and white light began to shine through his and Bucky's auras like breaks in stormclouds.

The scene sped up, slowing again after Bucky saw Stevie and his mother home -- and spent the night. The boys settled under the same covers, on the same twin bed, Stevie's aura significantly more pink than yellow now, while Bucky's was a light grey -- slightly depressed, but no longer anxious or worse.

"Tomorrow, yer gonna start learnin' ta box," Bucky muttered sleepily.

"Fine by me -- I been askin' you ta teach me fer _ages!_ "

"Yeah, well ... just keep yer nose clean, huh, pal? I'm only teachin' ya for if ya get jumped, not so you can challenge every jerk ya meet. Got it?"

Stevie let out a light snore.

"Ya damn punk," Bucky sighed ruefully, ruffling Stevie's hair. As an afterthought, he kissed the crown of Stevie's head.

Tony would swear the pink increased again, if ever so slightly.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The awkward adolescence of Steve and Bucky.

(O)  
The memories cut to a scene of the boys sparring, Bucky taking Stevie through each move slowly, then again slightly faster, and again faster still. Their auras were the usual ones, save for that the red-orange aura around Stevie, denoting Bucky's protective feelings, was a bit more prominent than usual.

"No, no, Steve, like _this_ \--"

"Why do you keep doing that?"

"Doing what?"

"Callin' me Steve instead of Stevie?"

Bucky's aura momentarily went burgundy -- he was apparently embarrassed at being caught. (Or maybe just over the reason _why_ he was doing it?) The red-orange around Stevie grew brighter.

"Stevie is a name for a _little_ fella," Bucky explained.

"Bucky, I _am_ a little fella!" Stevie pointed out wryly.(Tony realised he was never _not_ going to think of pre-serum Steve as "Stevie" now.) 

"Yeah, well, we don't hafta ... _underline_ the fact, ya know? Now, stand more like _this_ ...."

As they sparred, Bucky's white aura became striped gold -- Bucky was proud of the progress Stevie was making.

The scene changed again. Bucky looked about thirteen, so Stevie was about twelve; they were in school. A girl passed Stevie a note, blushing. He looked confused but pleasantly surprised. Bucky looked worried. His aura was dark grey; so was the girl's, but it was threaded strongly with emerald.

"The patient is jealous of the girl," Freud revealed.

"You had a crush on Sally?" Steve asked, perplexed.

"I wasn't jealous over _her_ , ya meatball! _You_ were my _best friend_ ; I ... I didn't want to share your attention."

"But ... you helped me _impress_ her!"

"Yeah, well ...." Barnes shrugged.

Tony shared knowing glances with the rest of the room. Sam looked like his eyes were about to roll out of his head at Cap's naivete, while T'Challa and Dr Aya looked to be pitying the man. Kasumba was hiding a smirk.

They saw Bucky help Stevie get dressed up, giving advice for the smaller boy's first date. Stevie's aura did its typical rotation -- pink with just a hint of yellow now, grey with cobalt streaks and sickly green spots, and red-orange. Bucky's was a mirror of the blue-grey, but every time Stevie smiled, there was a flash of white, with Stevie's aura going pink-yellow even if it was out of sync with its place within the aura-rotation.

Then Stevie and Sally had a picnic in the park, while Bucky watched nearby, giving Stevie guidance by way of hand signals. Stevie's aura flashed gold or white every now and then -- Bucky was proud of his friend, and happy for him, even as he was unhappy about the other boy dating.

They witnessed a flurry of memories of Steve with Sally. The dark grey of animosity in Sally's aura faded into blue-grey depression, and eventually began to rotate with a bit of yellow.

"You got friendlier towards Sally as time went on," Sam noted.

Barnes shrugged. "She was a nice gal, and she made Stevie happy. How could I keep hating her?"

The kids were in the park, having another picnic, this time with Bucky as a participant. A man approached them, looking angry.

"What are you doing with these boys, Sally?"

"Papa! This is Stevie Rogers, the boy I told you about, and his friend Bucky Barnes."

"A young lady does not dally with boys without a chaperone!" her father snapped, earning him a red aura. He turned his attention to Stevie, eyeing him suspiciously. "You! Rogers, is it? That make your people English?"

"Irish, actually, sir." Stevie looked braced for an impact. Tony remembered from that _Gangs of New York_ movie how the Irish in America were ill-treated for decades -- apparently that prejudice had lingered long enough, even well after the Civil War, for Steve to experience it ....

Sally's father's face twisted in distaste; his aura turned black as Bucky gave him a look that Tony was surprised didn't set the man on fire. Sally's father grabbed her arm, dragging her away. "I told you, you're not to associate with _their kind!_ "

Bucky put his arm around Stevie. "Hey, you dodged a bullet, buddy! Would you really want a guy like that for a father-in-law?"

Stevie didn't answer, seeming to shrink into himself. Blue-gray became the most prominent colour in his second aura; Bucky's mirrored it, alternating with a blue-white aura and one that was burgundy with ochre stripes.

"I was kinda relieved she was gone, but I also felt awful for being glad about it when Steve was so miserable," Barnes explained.

"C'mon, let's go spar, work off some of that anger," Bucky suggested. Just then, it began to drizzle. "Uh, but at my house, okay? I'll hold a pillow for you to punch; it'll make ya feel better,"

The boys apparently got soaked on their way home. In Bucky's room, they began to change clothes.

"Uh, Buck--" grown-up Steve began to protest to Barnes.

The questionable details got censorously blurred, but the memory kept going. "This moment is important," Barnes insisted.

Bucky, they saw, caught a glimpse of Stevie's nakedness; Bucky's and Stevie's auras flashed bright orange, with Stevie's also striped with hot-pink. Bucky turned away, looking panicked, his aura going burgundy with stripes of ochre and spots of sickly green, while Stevie's turned to its usual blue-grey / cobalt / sickly green.

"The orange is lust. The ochre is shame. The magenta is intense romantic love," Freud translated.

Grown-up Steve looked gobsmacked. He reached out to Barnes, who wouldn't look at him, just tensed. Sam grabbed Steve's wrist, shaking his head.

"Let him work through this," Sam admonished quietly.

"But--"

"It would be best to allow the memories to, henceforth, play uninterrupted," Freud suggested. "Too much interaction may affect the ... _accuracy_ of the memories, by either making the patient too self-conscious to be honest or forthright, or else by colouring the memories with your reactions when he did not originally _know_ those."

"But--"

" _Please_ , Steve," Barnes insisted, face averted and voice hoarse. "If I don't just plow through this stuff, I'll lose my nerve, and it might have some bearing on what Hydra did to me. I'll let you know when I'm done, but for now ... I need you to be quiet. Okay?"

Looking worried, Steve reluctantly nodded. Then, apparently realising Barnes couldn't see that, "Okay, buddy." His voice was as raw as his friend's.

To be honest, Tony was a little surprised that Steve seemed shocked. So did this mean they _hadn't_ eventually become lovers? Still, it was kind of obvious, Tony thought, that Bucky had felt more than friendship back then. Maybe it had been too hard for Stevie himself to see that, being so close to Bucky?

Another memory: Stevie was speaking, when suddenly his voice went deep. Another flash of magenta-striped orange over Stevie, with an answering aura of just orange over Bucky -- and then another moment of embarrassment-burgundy, shame-ochre, and fear-green for Bucky. There were several more moments like that, where Steve's smile or laugh or the way he said Bucky's name got a lusty, smitten reaction from Bucky.

Next, Bucky was 'sitting' for Stevie, who was sketching him. Stevie's aura was alternately white with gold, and pink with a hint of yellow. Bucky's was pale blue.

"Whaddya think?" Stevie asked, holding up a drawing. The gold intensified.

"How the heck can I answer that without sounding conceited?" Bucky replied, laughing, his aura alternately sunny yellow and bright white. "Seriously, it's _just like_ me -- you're _amazing!_ "

Stevie ducked his head. His aura went full magenta for a few seconds. "I better be, if I'm gonna get into art school. You, too," he added, handing over the sketchbook and pencil.

"You know I'm only doin' this so we can go to college together, right?" Bucky asked as he took the tools. "Maybe I'm an okay artist, but we both know I'm gonna be a boxer."

Stevie's face fell, and he looked away. "Yeah. You got plenty of practice doin' that while lookin' after me."

His aura flared red-orange, and Bucky's went blue-grey with cobalt, with intermittent ochre.

"Hey, c'mon! I've gotten into plenty of trouble all on my lonesome, and you ain't such a bad fighter these days!" Bucky protested. "Now, chin up -- how can I draw a pretty picture with you bein' a sourpuss over there?"

Then they were back in Bucky's bedroom. They were joking around, and began wrestling, Stevie knocking Bucky against the bed, falling on top of him. A flash of orange, with the magenta stripes for Stevie. This time the subsequent aura over Bucky was all cobalt and green, rotating with the still-present orange -- and another aura of burgundy and ochre.

"Hey, get off, I gotta use the loo!" And Bucky locked himself in his bathroom, frantically undoing his pants, looking completely freaked out as he examined himself (thankfully, those details were blurred). He paced, hands gripping his hair.

"Buck? You okay?" came Stevie's voice through the door, cracking between high and deep.

There was another flash of orange over Bucky, who quickly tucked himself back in his pants. "Uh ... I-I'm not feeling so hot, Stevie. I don't want you to catch it, so you should go. I'll call you when I'm feelin' better, okay?"

"Oh! You want I should get your ma?"

"No, no! I can handle it!"

"Well ... okay, buddy. Feel better!"

Moments later, there was a knock at the door.

"Son, I just saw Stevie -- he said you weren't feelin' well," came a masculine voice. "You all right in there?"

Bucky's aura was like a kaleidoscope. He hesitated, then opened the door a crack, keeping his pelvis hidden. "Pa, I ... somethin's wrong with my ... down below!"

"Down below?" Mr Barnes asked, looking perplexed. (His aura was pink and gold -- Bucky loved and respected his father.) Then the man understood. "Ohhhh, that! Ah ... swollen, you mean?"

Bucky nodded. "Stevie and I were wrestling, and suddenly ...."

Mr Barnes laughed. "Oh, son, it's not somethin' to fret about. Take a cold shower, and then you come find me in the kichen."

And then they were in the kitchen, Bucky looking pale as a sheet, his auras burgundy (but not ochre, probably because his father had laughed it off), and cobalt and green. His mother was nowhere to be seen; Tony reckoned Mr Barnes has asked her for some privacy.

Mr Barnes put down his newspaper and gestured to a chair. "You remember what I said about how babies are made? Well, that swelling is part of the process. You couldn't get a wet noodle in a keyhole, right?"

"But ... Stevie's a _guy_! Why would there be ... _swelling_ with _him_ , if the swelling is for ... _that_?"

"Well, see, that's the thing about penises, especially at your age: _eveything_ sets them off. Wrestling, brushing up against something .... You're gonna get to a point where you'll feel like you're thinking about sex more than you're not. You'll wake up from an erotic dream with your underwear all sticky-like."

The scene faded into Bucky's room at night. He writhed and moaned, but not like from a nightmare -- his aura was bright orange. "Steve," he pleaded in his sleep, then jolted awake. Frowning, he slid his hand under the blanket, into his pants. His expression grew pained, and the orange became momentarily striped with burgundy. He pulled his hand free, his fingertips glistening in the dim, ambient light.

He went into the shower, but apparently the cold wasn't enough. Barnes spared them by blurring his avatar below the waist, but it was clear Bucky was taking care of things. "Steve," he breathed, shuddering as he held tight to the shower pipe. Orange faded to ochre.

Grown-up Steve clearly wanted to say something; Sam grabbed the man's wrist again. Tony decided to be supportive, laying a part-comforting, part-restraining hand on Steve's shoulder when the man seemed ready to try to speak again. Barnes continued to ignore Steve, focused on reliving his past.

Bucky didn't go back to bed. Instead, he dressed and snuck out, heading for a sketchy part of town. He wandered until he spotted a burlesque show. When the bouncer would have bounced him, he held up a dollar bill. Chuckling, the man took it and waved him inside. Bucky found a spot tucked in a corner, and settled in to watch the show.

Despite his effort to remain unseen, though, he was spotted by one of the dancers, who began to toy with him, to the amusement of all. She placed a bare foot in his lap, kneading it, and his aura, cobalt with orange spots, flared totally orange. The men laughed uproariously; his aura became striped with burgundy. As soon as she lifted her foot, he bolted out the door.

He stopped on an alley a block away, and began to laugh, tears streaming. His aura alternated between burgundy, blueish-white (relief), and bright yellow (mirth).

"I thought my reaction meant Pop was right -- anything and everything would get me aroused. I was relieved to see women did, in fact, turn me on. I tried to just ignore the fact that I continued to have erotic dreams about Steve -- or that when I was very aroused, my thoughts often turned to him. I started flirting like mad with the girls, as an ongoing effort to both prove to myself, again and again, that I liked women, and to try keep myself from thinking of Steve in that way. But eventually I realised there was more to my thoughts than lust ...."

Another day. Bucky came into the kitchen and started helping his mother with dinner, his aura a light blue that slowly turned lavender, his expression growing thoughtful. "Ma ... how do you know when you're in love?"

His mother abruptly dropped everything and pulled Bucky over to a chair at the dining table. "Buck, have you got a _crush_?!" she asked excitedly. "Who's the girl? Do I know her?"

His aura momentarily turned burgundy, with little flecks of cobalt and ochre. "There's no girl, Ma; I was just wonderin' about it, is all."

His mother's expression suggested she was skeptical, but she didn't press him. Her eyes got far away, fond, as she reflected, "Well ... to start out, your stomach seems like it's doing backflips whenever you're around them. The slightest little gesture -- like the way they laugh or smile or even just breathe -- is the most beautiful thing in the world. You think about them constantly -- you'll try to think about other things, but everything reminds you of them. Just like everything you do without them makes you wish they were there with them. When you're out shopping, you wonder, 'Would they like this?' And you can't wait to see them again, even if you just left them. Your biggest fear is losing them."

Bucky's aura turned purple with flecks of cobalt, alternating with a dark blue-grey.

"Purple denotes intense introspection," Freud revealed.

"Well, Ma gave me a lot to think about that day," Barnes remarked.

"What do you do if ... if you can't be with them?" Bucky asked.

"What, like they have a boyfriend already?"

Bucky hesitated. "Sure. Or ... maybe they just don't like you back or ... something ... I guess."

His mother clearly suspected he was going to say something else, but left it alone. "Well ... even though it hurts, you gotta respect their space. No one owes you love. Sometimes the best you can hope for is friendship -- and really, when all is said and done, that's love too, in a different way. Marriage and kissing and ... _intimate_ things are great and all, but there are other ways to love someone. Sometimes even, just _being_ there is the most important way you can love _anyone_."

Bucky's blue-grey aura faded to a more grey, less visible version of itself -- defeat and resignation made Bucky feel numb, Freud told them.

Mrs Barnes seemed to sense it herself, suddenly looking sad and thoughtful. "Are you so sure this ... ah, _person ... doesn't_ love you back?"

"It ain't anybody, ma -- I was just sayin' what if."

She was quiet a long ten seconds before finally deciding to speak. "It's Stevie. Ain't it?" Her face was full of sympathy.

Despite how wide in alarm his eyes were, Bucky apparently couldn't see past her question to her face. "N-no, I -- why would you -- I don't know what you're--"

"James Buchanan Barnes, don't you lie to yer mama!"

His mouth worked wordlessly as is eyes began to glitter, fear of his mother's anger clearly warring with his fear of what a confession might mean.

Mrs Barnes got up and came around the table, wrapping her arms tightly around her son, like she was trying to squeeze the tears right out of him -- which she did.

"I'm sorry!" he sobbed.

Shocked, she drew back, grabbing a chair so she could sit beside her anguished son, and took his face in her hands. "Baby, there ain't nothin' to be sorry for. Ya hear me? I ain't mad at ya."

"But it's a sin -- the priest said so yesterday!"

She sighed, wrapping her arms around him again, more gently this time, rocking him as he sniffled. "The priest ain't God, Bucky. He's just a man readin' from a book written by other men. It's all hearsay -- if it was absolute, unquestionable, proven truth, there'd be no wars where people fight about what it says, or whether it's even right. Besides, he was readin' from Leviticus, and that's Old Testament -- Jesus said those ain't laws anymore, as I understand it. And if they are, you name one person who hasn't broken one rule or another from Leviticus? Why, this apron I'm wearin' has mixed fabrics, and I made shellfish for dinner. Those seem silly things to go to Hell for, right?"

Bucky nodded with a wan smile.

"And the Old Testament says it's okay to have slaves -- do you think that's right?"

Bucky shook his head.

"Now ... I don't know _how_ exactly Stevie loves you, but I don't doubt for one second that he _does_. And if you love someone else and they love you _back_ ... you shouldn't let anyone or anything come between you. Your love belongs to you, to give as you see fit, and it's more precious when it's shared between two people. Ain't nobody but the person you love and God got a say in that, and why would God frown on love?"

Tony spared the grown-up Steve a glance, and found him weeping openly.

"But ... even if God's okay with it, it's _illegal_ ," Bucky pointed out.

"Well ... maybe doing ... _certain things_ ... is, but the love itself isn't. Besides, times change. Since slavery wasn't illegal before but now it _is_ , maybe someday men doing ... those _certain things_ together _won't_ be. But no matter what, you two _can_ be best friends -- just like me and yer pop are. And yer pop and I love _you_ , no matter what. Ain't nothin' you can do to change that."

There was an audible sniff then -- from Barnes. Tony remembered that Barnes never got to see his mother again after leaving for war, and suddenly felt a little closer to the man -- never mind that the man's hands were the ones that took Tony's own mother away from him. It was really HYDRA who had separated both men from those women (and their fathers, for that matter) irrevocably.

Things grew a bit lighter after that -- for a little while, anyway. Bucky and Stevie went Coney Island and had a grand old time -- even though Stevie was sick on the Cyclone. Stevie's main aura was entirely pink, with not a speck of yellow, and the white aura was prominent -- just as it had been in every memory after Bucky's heart-to-heart with his mother. Bucky seemed to accept both his feelings for Stevie and the fact that he could never act on them. He seemed content to just hang out with his best friend, like always, drawing and going to movies and playing games.

Another time, at another amusement park (Rockaway's Playland, Tony suspected), Bucky looked about 16. The boys spotted a girl they knew, over by a carney game, trying to win something -- she turned away, dejected, when she lost. Her aura was yellow with a hint of bright orange -- Bucky liked and was attracted to her.

"I wonder if anyone _ever_ wins," Stevie remarked.

"Challenge accepted," Barnes said as his younger self swaggered over, Stevie following. "Don't worry, Dot, I'll get it for ya," Bucky promised, laying a quarter on the booth's counter.

" _Dot_? My name's _Dolores_ ," she corrected, though she smiled wryly.

" _Dolores!_ So formal! If I _win_ , can I call ya Dot?"

"That don't even make _sense_!"

"That ain't a no. And sure it does." He pointed to her polka-dot dress.

Her lips twitched as she held back a laugh. "Fine. You can ... _if_ you win."

The carney handed him three hoops, telling him he needed to get a ring around the mouth of the gold bottle in the center of a square of green bottles.

Bucky failed. Aura turning burgundy, Bucky paid again. And again, his aura getting more burgundy as he went.

"Buck, c'mon, man, nobody ever wins these things -- just give up!" Stevie begged after Bucky was two dollars in the hole.

Bucky's gained a bright red aura -- he was furious with himself for his failure. "I made a promise, and I intend to keep it!" And keep it he did -- after spending another dollar in quarters.

"I wasn't really winnin' for _her_ , ya know," Barnes confessed ruefully to Steve. "In my head, I was winning it for _you. That_ was why I couldn't bear to lose."

The scene changed; they saw Bucky and Stevie coming out of a back exit to a theatre. A group of teen boys followed them out, and quickly surrounded them. The gang members instantly gained dark grey auras streaked with cobalt.

Two took Stevie by the arm; those thugs' auras turned from grey to black, with dark red and sickly green streaks joining the cobalt. Stevie's auras were sicky green with cobalt streaks, and red-orange with magenta stripes. Bucky's was dark red with black stripes. Bucky was about to yank Stevie free, but two other thugs grabbed Bucky's arms, and he stiffened. Bucky now had a sickly-green aura in his rotation.

"One of them had a knife pressed against my back," Barnes revealed.

"See, Billy, I toldja this one was a guy! It's that Stevie kid from school!" said another thug, who grabbed Stevie by the jaw.

"Let him go!" Bucky growled, struggling despite the knife.

"I still ain't so sure, Frankie," Billy replied mockingly, ignoring Bucky. "I never thought Stevie was really a boy -- not what the way him an' Bucky here are always together. I mean, can you believe two fruits would dare go out in public like that? Don't they got secret clubs to go be filthy in, instead of dirtyin' respectable establishments like this one, on our turf?"

"Well, how's about we have a look-see, then, to be sure?" Frankie suggested, pulling out a knife and slipping it behind Stevie's belt.

Bucky struggled, then suddenly stopped with a gasp and a flash of bright red -- pain. Just as suddenly, he had a purple aura added to the rotation, signifying that he was trying to think of a plan.

"The knife had poked through the layers of my clothes, into my back a little, drawing blood," Barnes commented. "I realised I couldn't do Stevie any good if I got truly stabbed. I was trying to think of how to get free _alive_."

Frankie cut through the belt, then yanked hard on Stevie's trousers, popping the buttons. He slipped the knife into the waistband of Stevie's underpants, ignoring Stevie's murderous expression as he pulled the fabric down partway.

"Well, whaddya know," Billy laughed. "Looks like I lost the bet. Of course, one little slip of of Frankie's knife, and I won't be wrong no more," he added with a mad gleam.

"Yeah, then you won't be a pair of filthy fruits anymore," Frankie agreed. "You'll be _thanking_ me!"

Every aura but Stevie's, including Bucky's, turned black.

"I lost all reason in that moment," Barnes admitted. "I didn't care if they killed me; I wanted to kill every last one of them."

Before Bucky could act on his rage, a flashlight danced around the alley. "What's goin' on out here?" a voice called out from a silhouette with a cap -- a policeman?

The hoodlums ran. Bucky's aura went bluish-white with residual ripples of red, cobalt, and green. Stevie, aura still red-orange and magenta, pulled his clothes back up, holding them with a fist. The man with the flashlight approached -- an usher. "You boys all right? Someone reported suspicious activity in the alley ...."

"More or less," Stevie replied, wriggling his ruined clothes for emphasis on the less. "They cut my belt and popped the buttons."

"Well, we got a sewin' kit in the employee lounge, if'n you want one of the ticket girls to fix 'em," the usher offered.

"I can sew it myself, but lending me the kit would be much appreciated, thanks."

And so they found themselves in the theatre's break-room, Steve sewing buttons back on his pants while wearing an oversized spare from an usher's uniform.

"Hey, son, you sure you're all right? There's blood on the back of your shirt!" the usher noted to Bucky.

"What??" Stevie cried, abandoning his task to pull up Bucky's shirt, trying to examine the wound.

"I'm fine," Bucky insisted, turning so Stevie couldn't see it. Stevie tried to walk around him, but Bucky just kept turning.

"Bucky, we gotta get that stitched up!"

"It's not that bad!" Bucky's aura was burgundy with stripes of red, embarrassment and annoyance.

"Bad enough that you're bleedin' all over your clothes! You wanna give yer ma a heart attack?"

"Goin' to the doctor means filin' a police report; you wanna give _both_ our mothers heart attacks?" Bucky countered.

Stevie looked ashen.

Bucky's aura flashed purple, and he pointed at Stevie. " _You_ can sew me up!"

"What?? No!"

"Stevie."

" _No!!_ "

"It's that or our mothers find out and we never leave the house again."

Stevie bit his lip, staring at the sewing kit. He sighed. "We need a lighter, though."

"I got that!" the usher offered. "And a bit of booze, if it'll help."

Bucky took a hefty swig of alcohol while Stevie heated, then threaded the needle. Bucky yelped when Stevie patted the wound with an alcohol-soaked napkin, Bucky's aura going neon red with pain. When he finished, Stevie dribbled more alcohol over the cut, Bucky bearing it almost soundlessly this time, though his aura was still neon red. While Stevie then finished mending his pants, the usher sympathetically let Bucky finish off the still-half-full bottle.

Thankfully, they had already arranged for Bucky to spend the night, as Mrs Rogers was working a late shift -- now no one else would see Bucky drunk and ask questions. Well, aside from a few other drunks on the street. Stevie struggled to help Bucky up the stairs of his apartment, shushing the brunette as they stumbled, spurring Bucky to giggle.

When they reached Stevie's room, Stevie helped the inebriated Bucky strip down to his underpants, then got him sitting on the bed; as he did so, Bucky wrapped his arms around Stevie and pulled him into his lap, burying his face in his friend's neck. Stevie's aura was bright orange and magenta, Bucky's orange and white.

"You smell nice," Bucky mumbled.

"Thanks?" Stevie replied, looking amused -- until Bucky nibbled him on the neck. Then Stevie looked worried. "Uh, Buck? You know who I am, right?"

Bucky wore a sappy grin as he said, "You're my Stevie!" and kissed Steve sloppily on the corner of his mouth. "I love my Stevie!"

"Oh, _man_ , you're drunk!" Stevie laughed.

Bucky pouted, falling back against the bed, his aura going blue-gray. "My Stevie doesn't love me too?"

Stevie sighed fondly. "You're Stevie _does_ and will _always_ love you." He kissed Bucky's forehead as the young man's eyes drooped.

The next thing they knew, Bucky woke up spooning Stevie. He scrambled out of bed, his underpants tented by an obvious erection that quickly faded.

Bucky hurriedly dressed (pulling out a clean shirt he apparently had left there for such emergencies as blood stains) and left the room. He found Mrs Rogers coming home just then.

"Oh! Hello, Bucky! You all right?"

"Yeah, yeah, everything's fine! I was just gonna leave a note -- can you tell Stevie I just remembered something I gotta do first thing in the morning?" She promised she would, and he left.

As he walked the late streets, he found himself by the same back door to the same burlesque show he had ended up in a few years ago. A woman was leaving just then. An orange aura blazed into life over her.

"She was the woman who had put her foot in my lap," Barnes explained.

She was only momentarily startled. "You ... you were that boy that snuck in a few years back, weren't you? I never forget a ..." she looked down at his re-tenting pants, "... face. My, you grew up nicely," she cooed. "Come back in hopes of another show? Well, I'm afraid the main event is over, but I'd be happy to give you a ... _private_ showing, if you can manage the walk upstairs to my _private_ dressing room."

(A small part of Tony -- smaller than it used to be, anyway -- wanted to congratulate the man.)

"I ... I don't have much money," Bucky admitted.

She sauntered closer, close enough to kiss, leaning in as if she intended to. "Oh, sweetie, what I suspect you _do_ have is worth your weight in _gold_ to me!"

"W-what's that?"

" _Inxperience_ ," she whispered in his ear as the scene went dark.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky struggles with his feelings for Steve -- and the risks they bring.

(O)  
"It's strange," Barnes remarked as the scene changed. "I mean, I've been remembering more and more on my own, yeah, but _now_ it's like ... like the process got a big _boost_. The more I use these glasses, the better my memory gets -- clearer. Like something is ... is putting my scrambled brain back together!" He laughed, turning to Tony with a look of wonder. "This is quite an invention, Stark! I hope you don't mind me saying this, but ... I think your pop would be real proud."

Even as much as Tony had forgiven Barnes, it still surprised him how much it meant to hear him say those words. "Thank you," he replied roughly.

Barnes nodded; before he turned back to the scene, Tony could tell the man was holding back tears, doubtless blaming himself because Howard Stark wasn't actually there to witness Tony's achievement. Strange what a difference a day could make: yesterday, Tony wanted Barnes dead, and today, he wanted more than anything to give the man back his life ....

In the memory now playing, it was daylight, and Bucky was eating -- or rather, he was pushing food around his plate, his aura alternating amongst yellow-white, purple, blue-grey with cobalt, orange with occasional spots of magenta, and burgundy with ochre.

"I think never really knew what a 'whirlwind of emotions' was until that morning," Barnes told them. "I'd had a good night with that woman, Liza -- _really_ good -- but I also felt ... _dirty_ , having been with a complete stranger, someone I didn't love. A woman about five years older than me, no less! To be honest, I felt a little like a child who'd been lured into danger with candy. And, well ... I felt ... _guilty_ , too. Like ... like I'd _betrayed_ Stevie, as if we really _were_ ... what Billy and Frankie _thought_ we were. What I ... what I wished we _could_ be."

Tony could tell it was killing Steve to stay silent. Tony thought he had a pretty good idea what the man wanted to say, too -- something that, if Tony were right, would certainly be a comfort to Barnes. Well, the time for comfort _would come_ , sooner or later. As bad as Tony felt for the man, right now? Ending the programming was the most pressing task for _everyone_ 's sake. To that end, Barnes needed to keep working through his memories. This was taking long enough as it was, without _both_ men sharing their feelings ....

"I also felt like Stevie's having been threatened was all my fault," Barnes went on. "That those guys could _tell_ I really loved him, and _that's_ why they attacked. So I started thinking I should try to stay _away_ from Stevie, for his own safety. After all, Liza had shown me that being with a woman wasn't exactly a chore -- far from it. And I thought, if I got a reputation as a lady's man, people wouldn't believe Stevie was my ... my _lover_ anymore."

" _That's_ why--" Steve began, then caught himself.

"Why I kinda avoided you for a while, and started chasin' everyone in a skirt," Bucky finished. " _Part_ of why, anyway," he added cryptically.

There was a knock at the kitchen door; it was Stevie, who knocked, opened the door a crack and announced his identity, then came in without invitation and sat himself down at the table like he lived there. (Tony suspected that, by that point, this behavior was the norm for both of them at each other's homes.)

"You feelin' okay?" Stevie asked.

"Uh, yeah, why wouldn't I?" Bucky sounded distracted.

Tensing, Stevie looked around. "Is anyone else home?"

Bucky shook his head.

Stevie relaxed. "I just ... when you weren't there this morning, I worried. Especially after last night. I'm still kinda freaked about about the cut, you know? Hey, let me check it, make sure it's not infected, huh?"

Bucky hesitated, then lift his shirt, baring his back. His aura shimmered orange as he did, flaring when Stevie touched him.

"Well, it _looks_ okay ...."

"Yeah, I just have a bit of a hangover, that's all. Say, uh ... I don't really remember a _thing_ from last night. Did I ... _do_ anything? Did I ... h- _hurt_ you ...?"

"Well, you _bit_ me," Stevie chuckled. "But we did see a vampire movie last night, sooo ... Oh, and get this: you kissed me on the cheek and told me you loved me! That musta been some booze!" He laughed, bapping Bucky on the shoulder with the back of his hand.

"... That's it?"

Stevie looked puzzled. "Well, yeah; what'd ya _think_ happened?"

Bucky shook his head, laughing with relief. "Nothing."

"I honest to God thought I ... I'd _forced_ myself on you," Barnes admitted.

"Oh, God, _no_ , Buck--" Steve tried to assure him.

"Steve. You promised. Hush," Barnes insisted gently but firmly. "Anyway, _that_ was why I'd left before you woke up. I couldn't bear the thought of touching you a second longer, for fear of having touched you too much already. And, well, I dreaded learning the truth of whether I had or not. It was another reason I was planning on avoiding you -- even _after_ you told me nothing happened, I was afraid the next time I got drunk, you might not be so lucky."

"Hey, Stevie? Whaddya think of that girl, the one I won that stuffed animal for a couple a weeks ago?" Bucky suddenly asked.

Stevie thought for a moment. "You mean Dot?"

"Yeah! I was thinkin' of askin' her on a date ...."

The next they saw, Bucky was walking up to a front step with Dot, whose aura was orange and yellow.

"That was fun!" the girl said cheerfully.

"Yeah!" Bucky's enthusiasm seemed a little forced, his aura orange with streaks of cobalt -- and ochre spots.

"My big sister Liza _said_ you were sweet."

Bucky stopped dead, his aura now a nauseating swirl of cobalt, ochre, and sickly green. In contrast, his skin suddenly seemed grey. "Your _sister?_ "

"Yup! I was tellin' her about this rumour Frankie was spreadin' about you an' little Stevie. She said that was funny, yer name bein' Bucky, cause she'd just had some fun with a guy with that very same name, and if he preferred guys, he sure didn't show it."

"I-I _don't_ \--"

Dot talked over him. "After we determined we was talkin' about the same guy, I told her you flirted with _me_ plenty, too -- but I _also_ saw how you looked at Stevie, and so I thought maybe there _was_ somethin' to the rumour. Like, maybe you was tryin' ta convince yerself you ain't lavender, 'cause that ain't exactly an easy shade ta be." Bucky was speechless, but it was just as well; she clearly wouldn't have let him get a word in edgewise. " _Liza_ suggested maybe ya swing both ways. Either way, I ain't lookin' to settle down or nothin' anytime soon, but I do like ta have fun, and you sure do seem real nice. So whaddya say? We hang out, you get ta fix yer reputation, you get to keep yer Stevie, I get to keep my Margot, an' we maybe scratch each other's itches now 'n then?"

"... I-itches?" Bucky barely squeaked out.

"Well, unless you really _don't_ like girls. But Liza taught me everything she knows, so even _that_ might not be such a problem." She grinned, then seemed to have a thought, smile falling. "Unless you and Stevie really _have_ been, ah ... _scratchin'_ each other already?"

Sickly green with cobalt streaks. "We're not -- we don't -- we _haven't_ \--"

"All right, all right, don't have a coronary!" she laughed. "But I tell ya what, Bucky-boy: gentlemen are hard ta come by. I feel safe around you -- a nice boy I can just go see a movie with, but with no funny business if I don't feel like it. A lotta girls would appreciate a guy they could do stuff with without ... _expectations_. Lotta boys seem to think every girl is for sale, and popcorn is currency, ya know? So, if ya wanna look like more a lady's man, I can spread the word that Bucky Barnes is good company with no strings -- not a long-term courtship, and no expectation of physical reward. Trust me; you'll be a hot commodity."

Bucky's aura had gone purple with orange stripes -- he was intrigued by the offer. "And the itch-scratching?"

She smiled, looking a bit predatory. "Some _will_ be interested, yeah, myself included -- we'll let you know. There's a difference between ... _negotiatin'_ , and a guy just helpin' himself. And hey, you don't feel like scratchin'? The rule goes both ways. I don't expect nothin'."

"And Margot?"

"She's my girlfriend!" Dot replied cheerfully. "So yeah, I could probably use a little reputation-fixin' of my own."

"And she doesn't mind that you ...?"

"What, that I play with boys? Nah -- she does it too. Besides keepin' up appearances, there are certain itches that boys can scratch a little ... differently, ya know? Besides, it's just sex," she added with a shrug. "I might share the rest of my body pretty freely, but _she_ owns my heart!"

The orange in both Dot's and Bucky's aura grew brighter, the cobalt, sickly green, and ochre in his aura fading -- though they didn't disappear completely.

"Heh, I get that." A momentary flash of blue-grey sadness. "So are you ... _itchy_ right now?" Bucky asked.

She smiled slowly, slyly, seductively. "I could go for a good scratchin', sure." The smile faded as she asked, sounding truly concerned, "But are you sure that's what _you_ want? What about your Stevie? It doesn't sound like you have an arrangement like Margot and me ...."

Bucky was blue-gray and ochre, eyes downcast, shaking his head. His voice grew hoarse as he spoke. "And we never will. Even assuming he feels the same way -- and he probably doesn't--" Tony's glance at the grown-up Steve; the man clearly struggled to hold his tongue "--if people tried to hurt him when we hadn't even _done_ anything .... No. He's better off without me." A bright-red and black aura entered his rotation -- anguish. His lip trembled, tears brimming. His face crumpled with a sob.

Dot held him, stroking his hair. He seemed about to return the hug, but his hands dropped instead, forming white-knuckled fists, trembling at his sides.

Steve looked like he wished he could comfort Bucky himself, but Barnes, facing away, didn't see that.

"Hey, now. Come inside 'n have some coffee," Dot suggested, guiding Bucky into the house.

"Nothing happened that night," Barnes revealed. "She asked about Steve -- it was like being at a wake, reminiscing about things that happened in the old days. Well, I suppose it _was_ a wake -- for what I thought was the end of my relationship with Steve.

"And in talking, I got to know Dot better, too. Turns out Liza was Dot's guardian -- their folks were dead, and they didn't have any other family. Liza made sure Dottie and any of her female friends knew all about safe sex and had plenty of prophylactics and birth control, thanks to her connections in the cabaret. Her house was a place where the girls -- and their partners -- could explore their sexuality safely and without judgement.

"So I went out with Dot again that week, and _then_ ... well, then there was ... _scratching_. More than once, over the course of our friendship." Tony had a feeling that, if Barnes had an aura, it would be burgundy and ochre. "Not often, though!" the man hurriedly added. "And she and Liza and Margot were the only ones I was ever ... _that_ intimate with. But I did go to more than first base with other girls sometimes. Most of the time, though, it was just watchin' movies or walkin' in the park -- stuff like that. A lot of the girls ... too many had been abused. They just wanted to feel safe, have fun. I figured, if I couldn't be truly happy myself, maybe I could help _them_ have a good night."

He showed them memories to illustrate the points. In every moment, he had a blue-grey aura with ochre in his rotation, even if there was also yellow, orange, blue-white, or the occasional moment of bright white. While several girls' auras were yellow or orange, no girl's aura ever had any pink -- except maybe a hint of light-pink with Dot, Liza, or Margot. Certainly nothing even remotely approaching the level of the hot-pink of Stevie's aura.

"No matter how many girls I met, though, Steve wasn't far from my mind. I'd wonder what he was doing. I'd wonder if he would have liked to do whatever _we_ were doing. I'd wonder if he'd approve of the girl I was with. Half the time I'd kiss a girl, I'd find myself was wondering what kissing _him_ would be like -- or even pretending she _was_ him. I think my plan to stay _completely_ away from Steve lasted about a week -- if that. I just couldn't bear to say no to him, to keep making excuses. So I'd spend at least a few hours a day with him, despite my better judgement. And then something happened, and I realised my judgement was crap anyway."

Bucky, aura bluish light-grey, was coming in through his kitchen door. His mother, in tears, immediately threw her arms around him. "Oh, thank God you're home!"

"Ma, what's the matter?" Bucky's aura sparked with cobalt, and gained specks of sickly green.

"Sarah just called -- it's Stevie, Bucky! Someone found him in the park, roughed up real bad!"

Bucky's aura went black, cobalt, and green, his skin going pale. He started for the door, but his mother grabbed his arm. "We'll take a cab!"

In an echo of the time Stevie had been in the hospital for pneumonia, Bucky hurried through the halls -- this time, his mother a beat behind him. Mrs Rogers, in tears, poked her head out a door, saw him, and motioned him inside. She sat wearily in a chair at her son's bedside; Bucky took the one on the other side, slipping his hand into Stevie's. Tony thought maybe he saw Stevie squeeze back -- never mind that he appeared to be unconscious, covered with bruises and scrapes, one eye swollen shut. A bandage was wrapped around his head, and his arm was in a cast.

"Thank God none of the people who jumped him pulled a knife or a gun! But he's got a black eye, I don't know how many contusions and lacerations, a fractured wrist, eight broken ribs, a concussion, _and_ he's in a ... a _coma_. They aren't even sure if he'll wake up!" She let out a sob with that last, Bucky's mother giving her a comforting hug as Mrs Rogers began to cry in earnest, whispering, "My baby!" over and over.

When Mrs Rogers recovered a little, Mrs Barnes insisted her friend come out to the cafeteria for a break, leaving Bucky alone with his friend, closing the door as they went.

Bucky idly stroked Stevie's hand with a thumb, eyes glistening. He began to speak, quietly. "Please, Stevie, open your eyes! Don't leave me! I'll do _anything_ you ask. Stevie? Can you hear me?"

He paused a long moment, then sighed. "You know what I'm most scared of, Stevie? That when you ... when you _die_ \-- an' I pray that's a long, long time from now -- but when you do ... I'm afraid I'll never _see_ you again. I mean, if the Atheists are right, then ...this is all there is, and there's no where _to_ meet you again. But hey ... at least I'd be outta my misery when it's _my_ turn to go, right?

"But if they're wrong ... and _Ma's_ wrong, and the people who say I'd go to Hell for the way I feel for you are _right_ ... then the devil wouldn't even have to do anything to me once I'm there. An eternity without you would be a Hell all its own." He sniffled. "I know, because s-staying away from you just a w- _week_ was H-Hell on _Earth!_ "

Bucky broke down then, sobbing into Stevie's blanket, the hand gripping Stevie's now doing so with a white-knuckled grip, as if he could anchor his friend in the land of the living. Time lapsed in the memory, until Bucky's sobs faded to the occasional sniffle. He propped himself up, gazing at Stevie, his aura alternately white (because even then, it seemed he gave Bucky joy like no one else could), bright magenta, and blue-gray streaked with fear-green. Bucky's own aura was a light blue-gray -- not tranquillity so much as numbness, Freud told them; there was also a black aura of self-loathing.

"Too bad this ain't a fairytale, like 'Snow White' or 'Sleeping Beauty', ya know?" he mused, stroking Stevie's hand again. "I mean, yer sleepin', and yer a beauty ta _me_. We ain't kissed, and I love you, truly -- and it's true love's first kiss that breaks spells, right?" He grew thoughtful, brow furrowed. "Well, I suppose it's worth a shot, huh? Desperate times, and all that. Better you alive and maybe hating me for doing it, than ...."

He licked his lips nervously, stood up, hand still clasped with Stevie's, and leaned over, hesitating just a moment, checking the door, before pressuring his lips to those of his beloved. Both auras were entirely magenta.

After a few long seconds, Bucky pulled back, studying Stevie, his aura a sky-blue, sunny yellow, and cloud-white that Freud described as hopeful. It all faded to stormcloud-grey, Bucky falling back into his chair in defeat, hand still clasped with Stevie's.

"I guess it needed to be my first kiss _ever_ , not just the first between _us_ , huh?" He chuckled, but quickly sobered, smoothing Stevie's hair back tenderly. "I'm sorry my first wasn't you -- I wish it _had_ been. Wish it _could_ have been. But I _do_ love you -- more than I've ever loved anyone. Maybe that ain't sayin much, young as we are, but I honest-ta-God can't imagine loving anyone any more!" He raised Stevie's hand to his lips, kissing the back of it, then cradled it to his chest. His eyes screwed shut, and he silently began to cry anew.

A slight stirring from Stevie captured Bucky's instant attention, sky-blue and yellow and white peeking through the grey of his aura. He leaned forward, studying Stevie intently, smoothing his hair again. "Stevie? Stevie, baby, it's Bucky. I'm here. Come on, open your eyes. Show me those beautiful baby blues, huh? Do it for me."

Stevie's good eye fluttered half open. "Bucky?" His voice cracked.

Bucky half laughed, half sobbed in relief. "Oh, thank God. I'm here, ba--uddy. You're gonna be okay. Lemme go get a doctor--"

Bucky started to slip away, but Stevie held fast, Bucky quickly stopping, confused. 

"I'm sorry," Stevie told him. "I don't mean to be so much trouble. I'm like a ... a bully magnet or somethin'."

Bucky sat back down. "Hey, now, it's the mooks who _did_ this who should be apologisin'!"

"Yeah, well ... still. I don't blame you for not hangin' out much anymore, all things considered."

Bucky's aura turned ochre. "Wha--"

"First the thing with Billy and Frankie and their goons, and now these guys ... they kept callin' ma a ... a _rent_ boy. And it's not like it's the first time I ever heard that."

" _What?_ When have you--"

"Oh, they don't do it when _you're_ in earshot. Yer reputation as a boxer precedes you, I think. But when I'm alone ... well, let's just say they ain't afraid of _me_."

Bucky stared in horror, his aura sickly green with ochre stripes.

"It occurred to me then," Barnes revealed, "that this had happened because I'd stayed away -- that people must have gotten bolder without me around. That maybe they would see Steve as a fruit no matter what. So I resolved to be around as much as possible -- and came up with a way to both protect him and deter any rumours, by arranging double-dates." Tony glanced at Steve, who seemed surprised by this but didn't say anything. "Things worked pretty well that way, too -- right up until my orders came."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Gawds, I'm such a sap. XD


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bucky goes to war ....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter describes some events depicted in _Captain America: The First Avenger_.

(O)  
"I'm gettin' ahead of myself," Barnes said, shaking his head. "Let me back it up a little bit. Let's see ..." Memories, mostly of the double dates, flew by.

The scene slowed. They saw Bucky, his aura blue-grey and cobalt, following Stevie, the same aura alternating with a magenta-and-white one. Stevie's mother had apparently died, and Bucky talked to Stevie about living with his family. Stevie had insisted he could get by on his own, but Bucky had countered that Stevie didn't _have_ to, that Bucky would be with him till the end of the line.

Stevie took Bucky up on the offer to sleep on the Barnes family's couch. Bucky had a nightmare that first night -- of Stevie, lying dead in an alley -- and came downstairs, relieved to find his friend hale and whole. Apparently there were multiple nights where this happened, occasionally resulting in Bucky sleeping on a chair so he could readily reassure himself, in case he had another nightmare (which, Barnes admitted, he often did).

Bucky was beginning to make a name for himself as a boxer; Stevie worked as a janitor / water boy / occasional unofficial medic at the gym Bucky boxed in. After saving up for a few years, they started art school -- though they still worked at the gym in the evenings. It seemed a pretty good life, all things considered. The world was at war, but the US seemed determined to stay out of it. The pair lived in peace, albeit an uneasy one, Bucky's aura pretty steadily blueish-white, Stevie's bright magenta.

And then a bomb dropped. Literally. They were in art class when the news came on the radio of Pearl Harbour. 

Next, Barnes showed them the day he learned he'd been drafted. The mailman came while he was trimming the hedges, and handed him the mail with an apologetic look. Bucky sat heavily on the front stoop, aura sickly green, hands shaking as he opened the envelope addressed to him.

His father, also working in the yard, noticed and sat beside him. "Is that ...?"

Bucky nodded, eyes brimming with unshed tears.

"Dammit," his father swore quietly.

"I'm scared, pop," Bucky admitted. "I don't wanna kill people! Hell, I don't wanna _die!_ And ... if I leave, what'll happen to Stevie? Ya know, he _wants_ to go. And he's right -- we _should_. Hitler and Mussolini -- they need to be stopped. But Stevie's a much braver man than I am."

His father put an arm around him. "Than _both_ of us. I've been praying every day that _neither_ of you would go." He sighed. "Let's hope God at least listens to my prayers that you stay _safe_."

Next, they saw Bucky, cobalt with green spots, waiting outside a recruitment centre. The door burst open, Stevie stalking out. 

"4F!" Stevie spat.

"I'm sorry, pal." Bucky's aura, the blueish-white of relief, suggested otherwise.

Stevie kept on walking.

Bucky hurried after him, the cobalt returning. "Where are you going?"

"To another recruitment centre."

"To do what?" Bucky hissed.

"Enlist."

Sickly green with hints of dark-red anger, Bucky grabbed Stevie's arm. " _Have you lost your frickin' mind??_ "

"Language! And no. You know how important this is to me, Buck. It ain't right I get to stay here but you and other men gotta go just because you and those other men were born healthier!"

"Steve, aside from what yer plannin' bein' _illegal_ , the cards you been dealt throughout your entire _life_ ain't been fair -- you're finally gettin' a _break_!"

"Well, I don't _want_ it!" Stevie snapped, yanking his arm free and stalking off. His magenta aura was streaked with dark gray, and he had a second aura of bright red and purple..

"I'd never seen Steve so angry before," Barnes said sadly. "Never had him pull away like that, neither, and while my head knew he wasn't angry with _me_ ... it broke my heart. Between that and the war, I was sure the world was ending. It just took a little longer to happen than I thought it would," he chuckled mirthlessly.

Next, they saw Bucky at a firing range, alongside other privates going through basic training. He surreptitiously snuck a glance at a photo in his pocket -- one of him and Stevie, arms around each other's shoulders, smiles like sunbeams -- then, taking a deep breath to steel himself, began to fire. Soon, the bullseye of his target was a gaping hole. Clearly impressed with Bucky's handiwork, the drill sergeant called for a new target, ordering it to be placed further back. The man didn't even reprimand anyone when everyone else around stopped to watch Bucky shred that target as well. Again, a new target was put up, even further back. The third time it was replaced, it couldn't go any further back, so Bucky was told to go back as far as _he_ could. He still didn't miss.

His aura glowed gold, until the sergeant let out, "Hot damn! Looks like we got ourselves a Grade-A sniper!"

Bucky turned green with dread.

His last night before shipping out to war, he found Stevie fighting in an alley. Bucky's calm demeanor belied his ever-present depression-blue-gray aura with fear-green dots and bolts of anxiety-blue. A second aura was bright red and pink -- fond exasperation. Steve had auras that echoed both of Bucky's -- him being the source of those feelings -- and a magenta-and-gold one, as well.

"I was terrified about leaving you behind, and you getting into that fight did _not_ help," Barnes sighed ruefully. "But I also was proud as ever of your conviction, your bravery. Thinking of that got me through many a tough time during the war -- I'd ask myself, "What would Steve do?"

After rescuing him, Bucky took Stevie on a double-date, Stevie's aura glowing magenta the whole while. Bucky's date was a faint yellow with a hint of orange, while her friend, Stevie's "date", was dark grey and red -- Bucky didn't like how she treated Stevie. Buck did a good job of keeping his feelings to himself, Tony thought, Bucky's _face_ suggesting his aura would be bluish white, or yellow ....

When Bucky found Stevie gazing longingly at a display in the recruitment center, he and Stevie both gained an aura of blue-gray, and another of purple streaked with bright red. They got into an argument over Stevie's intent to try again. Bucky relented, starting to leave with a surprisingly aloof farewell.

"I was hurt and angry, yeah," Barnes admitted, "but most of all, I was tryin' to treat my leaving like it was no big deal, I'd be coming back, tryin' to _convince_ myself of it. I thought, if I touched you just then, that my oh-so-carefully-woven delusion might shatter ...."

And then Stevie called out to Bucky, whose resolve obviously broke, seeing as he hurried back to his friend.

"Here I was, afraid I'd never see you again," Barnes admitted, crying the tears now that he didn't then, "but there _you_ were, so obsessed with getting into the damn army, I got even less time with you than I'd _thought_ I would that night. I didn't think I could hate the army more than I did in that moment." Even so, Stevie flared magenta as they hugged goodbye. "Despite what I said that night, that they might take you, I held onto the belief that the army never would. That you'd be _safe_. Or, I _tried_ to hold on to it, anyway ...."

Bucky was standing in a tent, by a bed, smiling and opening a letter, his aura pink and white. The letter had the aura too, along its edges. As Bucky read, they heard the voice of his mother.

_My dear Bucky,  
Oh, how I miss you! Your father and your brother and sisters do too. We pray for you at dinner every day._

Bucky still had the pink and white aura, but now there was a light grey one.

"I'd wondered why she didn't send greetings from Steve, too," Barnes revealed.

_I hope they're feeding you well, and that you're managing to stay warm and dry! Honestly, if they aren't, let me know -- I'll call out senators, our representatives, even the president, and give them an earful!_

A grin and a flash of yellow mirth.

_I have some bad news, I'm afraid: Stevie managed to get into the army._

Smile falling, Bucky turned pale, his aura fear-green.

_I wish I knew the name of the jerk what accepted him, so I could chew _his_ ear off but good! Anyway, Stevie told me not to tell you, but he also said he wouldn't write, cause then you'd see the postmark and know, and worry. I figure you not ever hearing from him, though, and not knowing why, would be worse. I'm so sorry, baby. We're praying for him, too, but I know  your prayers will do the most good. They've kept him alive this long, after all!_

Bucky put the letter aside, covering his mouth with hand to stifle a cry, screwing his eyes tight, uselessly, against tears. His fear-aura gained cobalt lightning, and a second aura appeared, blue-grey with black and red -- grief.

"Hey -- you all right?" Tony recognised Timothy "Dum Dum" Dugan.

Bucky jumped, frantically wiping his eyes. "Yeah, um ..." His shoulders sagged, and he shook his head, sniffling. "No. No, I'm not. You got any kid brothers?"

Dugan sat on the bed across from Bucky's. "Yeah, one."

Bucky pulled the photo out of his pocket, handing it to Dugan. "Steve ... he's not my brother, but he may as well be. And he's sickly. Heart problems, asthma. Scrawny -- ninety pounds soaking wet. And _short_. Like, to look at him, you'd think he was still fourteen -- that pic was taken about six months before I shipped out. He's tried at least a half-dozen times to get into the army, but come up 4F every time. Well, every time but _one_ , apparently." Bucky shuddered with a stifled sob.

Dugan, studying the photo, looked horrified. He came to sit beside Bucky, handing the picture back and putting a comforting arm around him. "Look, buddy, there's no way in hell they'd put him in the field. Is he good with numbers?"

Bucky nodded, looking hopeful. "He's pretty smart."

"Well, there ya go; they'll make him a desk jockey, put him in charge of supplies or something. He probably begged until they couldn't take it anymore, so they found a way to let him do _something_."

"You really think so?" The cobalt-and-green aura became just faint cobalt, the red and black disappearing from the blue-gray, which was lighter and had rays of white breaking through.

"Well, no offence, but look at him! No idiot would put a guy like that in the field, with others relying on him!"

The next they saw, Bucky and Dugan were hiding behind a ridge, rifles at the ready. Bucky fired -- and suddenly they saw a close-up of the target, a man with muttonchops like Dugan and a prominent mole on one cheek, getting hit in the shoulder.

"Tough break," Dugan remarked. It earned him a faint red aura of annoyance; the same aura striped with gold over Bucky meant indignation.

"Whaddya mean? He's out of commission!"

Dugan chuckled grimly. "Look, I know how hard this is, but every Kraut that lives? Does so to kill one of ours. Same as we do to their guys. So I want you to imagine every one of our guys is your Steve. Protect them like you would him -- because if he _does_ , God forbid, somehow end up out here, that's exactly what you'll be doing: killing the enemy before they can have a chance to kill him. And ever guy out here is _somebody's_ Steve -- so do for them what you'd want them to do for you, and watch their Steves' backs. Golden rule."

Just then, they saw one of their guys fall -- and Bucky spotted the shooter.

His target, back in action. His target, aura black.

Face scarily determined, Bucky's aura blazed dark red streaks on black -- fury and self-loathing. There was another, bright red streaks in purple -- anguish over what he had to do.

This time, the shot went between the eyes.

The black faded, leaving the dark red. The bright-red and purple gained blue-grey and sickly green spots -- grief, horror. He hurriedly crawled away, retching a distance off. When he crawled back, his aura was simply the dark grey of numbed defeat.

Dugan patted his shoulder. "It feels like the end of the world, I know. Soon enough, though ... it'll just be another day. And I know that sounds awful, but in order to do this, day by day, so that the people we love can _live_ , safe and free? We _have_ to sacrifice ourselves, piece by piece."

"I just hope we can get those pieces _back_ when we're done, or the people we love won't _recognise_ us ..." Bucky replied.

Another day; the men were watching news reels. An ad for war bonds starring Captain America started up -- but the sound cut out before Cap said anything in that all-too-distinctive voice of his. "Nice tights, ya mook!" shouted someone in the crowd, encouraging the rest of the men to jeer in kind. Bucky peered at the screen, his aura purple, orange -- and burgundy.

"I thought he seemed kinda familiar," Barnes half-teased, "and I was inexplicably attracted to him -- but I was embarrassed at being turned on by some guy in a silly-looking costume ...."

Things went from silly to dark very quickly, Bucky's regiment getting caught in a firefight. They cheered the arrival of a terrifying-looking tank as it took out their enemy -- but then it turned on them.

Thus began Bucky's _first_ experience as a PoW ....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> While I don't consider that aforementioned comic canon, I did borrow the idea of them being in art class together, hearing about Pearl Harbour, from it.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve finds Bucky during the war, only to lose him again. Poor Bucky is a mistreated prisoner of war twice over.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter describes events shown in _Captain America: The First Avenger_ and _Captain America: The Winter Soldier_.
> 
> This chapter posted in honour of Sebastian Stan's birthday. The entire fic is dedicated to him.

(O)  
Tony and his companions next saw Bucky lying on the floor of a cell, shivering and coughing. The picture, fuzzy, faded in and out -- because of the man's illness at the time, Tony realised.

They heard a voice, muffled and in German; Freud translated. "But we can't spare any healthy men, Dr Zola! We're behind schedule as it is!"

"So am I, and I promise you, _my_ work is more important! But don't worry -- I won't be taking any _healthy_ men. Ah, is that him? Yes, take that one."

A pair of guards lifted Bucky roughly to his feet, causing him to cry out in pain.

" _Stop!_ Can't you see he's _sick?!_ " Dugan protested, earning himself a pair of guards holding him back. "And he's got broken ribs, too!"

"Don't worry, I'm a doctor," Zola informed him in English. "Your friend won't be sick anymore when I'm through with him ...."

The world went dark. When Bucky came to again, still delirious, Zola and another man -- Johann Schmidt, Tony realised -- hovered over him. Behind Zola and Schmidt's heads was a device that looked like a death-ray. 

"I hope for your sake it _works_ this time, Doctor," Schmidt warned.

"I believe I've figured out the right level of exposure this time," Zola replied, tightening a strap around Bucky's arm.

Zola began giving Bucky injections all over his body, with ridiculously long needles. As he did so, Bucky began trying to recite his name, rank, and serial number, often wincing. When Zola finished, he and Schmidt backed away behind a screen. The ray activated, and Bucky was irradiated with a blue light -- at which point he screamed, his aura bright-red agony. It went on for a solid minute, Tony biting back a request to go on to the next memory. Bucky was barely conscious when Zola turned the beam off, but he went back to mumbling his name, rank, and serial.

"Well, he didn't get burnt to a crisp, like the last one!" Zola announced cheerfully.

Schmidt was less impressed. "He looks no different!"

"What, did you want him to turn out like _you?_ " Zola chuckled, laying a stethoscope on Bucky. "Ah, you see? His lungs sound perfectly clear now! Already, his health shows great improvement!" His voice faded with Bucky's consciousness.

When Bucky woke again, Bucky immediately began reciting his information, but clearly was still very groggy. His aura was gold and yellow-orange, which Freud deemed determination.

And then post-serum Steve arrived, blazing magenta, white, and orange. Suddenly Bucky was shining white joy, loving magenta, lusty orange, and sunny yellow mirth, followed by purple-and-cobalt -- confusion over Stevie's sizable change in mass, and worry about him being there at all. They stumbled their way to freedom, only to have an encounter with the Red Skull, who escaped -- but not before retracting the bridge they'd intended to use to cross over exploding machinery.

They found another route. Bucky managed to cross the massive, fiery chasm on a horizontal support beam -- only for the beam to collapse before Steve could follow. Steve tried to order Bucky to go, but Bucky -- aura terror-green, conviction-gold-and-yellow-orange, and protective-red-orange -- refused to leave without him. The green was blinding as Steve jumped the seemingly unjumpable distance, then dangled from the railing on Bucky's side; the green was instantly traded for blue-white relief when he got Steve over the rail, to safety. Together, they escaped the enemy warehouse without further incident, Bucky asking a million questions as they went -- until they caught up with the rest of the escapees.

"Captain Frickin' America," Bucky muttered then, shaking his head. "The posters don't look a thing like you -- I never would have guessed. You could write a letter once in a while, ya know! Tell a guy things!"

"Like what? That I'd become a circus monkey?" memory-Steve asked, chagrined. A red-and-purple aura of mental hurt joined the magenta, echoed on Bucky.

"Better than _nothing!_ " Bucky countered, surprised at his own heat.

Steve looked shocked himself, mouth working wordlessly until he finally managed an "I'm sorry", clearly at a loss.

Bucky sighed, the red-and-purple fading from both of them. "Come here, ya dumb punk." He hugged Steve tightly; Steve returned it.

They were quiet after that, Bucky staying a step behind as Steve led the group back to the base. The blue-gray aura returned to both men, darker than usual, crackling with cobalt and sparking with fear-green. Steve's white-orange-magenta aura had stripes of gold still. Another aura though, on Bucky, was black-and-red anger.

"Here you had rescued _me_ , for once," Barnes remarked. "You even looked like you could drop-kick an entire platoon. I had built my identity around being your protector -- I didn't know where I fit in in your life anymore. Or in _my_ life, for that matter. But it was clear that any hope I had of you going home to safety was gone. I was furious with the army for enabling your suicidal tendencies ... but I was _proud_ of you, too."

Bucky led the cheering for Captain America, smiling for his friend, but any time Steve wasn't looking, Bucky's expression turned dour.

Next, Barnes showed the two men at a bar, their paired blue-grey auras muted and sans green or cobalt. Steve's magenta, orange, gold, and white aura shone bright and was speckled with mirth-yellow. Bucky's aura was its old, laid-back blue-white.

They witnessed Bucky's touching declaration that he would follow his friend into battle.

Peggy Carter came in a moment later, aura orange, as was Bucky's -- until Bucky seemed to realise that she only had eyes for Steve, who was apparently likewise enthralled by her. Peggy's aura went jealously-green, but not black -- and Steve had a faint green aura himself. Bucky's orange aura went burgundy with humiliation and ochre with shame, and the blue-grey went darker, greyer, with fine lines of red -- at the same time that Steve's white aura took on gold. Bucky's blue-white aura was gone.

"I'm not gonna lie, that hurt my ego," Barnes admitted, "but despite how it looked, I was way more jealous that you were attracted to her than that she ignored me for you. I _was_ glad for you that you might finally find love, though, even if I was depressed you wouldn't find it with me -- I'd come to terms with that long ago. I wanted you to be happy, more than anything. But I'd realised then that maybe I'd come to enjoy your, ah ... lack of success, too, because it had meant I didn't have to share you with anyone. I was disgusted with myself for that."

They saw snippets of the Howling Commandos on missions, the focus on Bucky grimly watching Steve's back. Not that he never laughed or smiled, but even when he did, the smile, like on the day Steve rescued him, often would quickly drop when Steve's back was to him. His auras were usually the blue-grey with cobalt and green, the burgundy with ochre, and, during missions, the black. There was no hesitation when it came to killing anyone who might hurt Steve, but killing still clearly sickened him. Still, the Commandos all had yellow auras with hints of pink -- evidence of the bonds of chosen family (like the Avengers had been -- and, Tony hoped, would be again). And there _were_ times with them that Bucky had yellow-mirth or white-joy auras.

That Commando family nominally included Peggy -- and Howard. Bucky admired them both, was amazed by Howard's inventions and charmed by his humour, and impressed by Peggy's strength of character (even if the jealousy aura never really went away). Some of Bucky's happiest memories included Commando card games where Peggy and Howard (a card sharp, which didn't surprise Tony in the slightest) were in attendance.

Seeing Bucky and Howard laughing together only served to increase Tony's dedication to freeing the former from Hydra. (Tony also made a mental note to ask Barnes and Cap both for more memories of his father, even as it hurt to see the man warm and fun in ways Tony had never known him to be. Witnessing Howard flirting with anything in a skirt, Tony now suspected there was a _playboy_ gene ....)

And then the Commandos were on what Tony quickly recognised as Bucky's last mission. Even then -- through _all_ their missions, really -- Bucky and Steve had a sixth sense about each other, interacting effortlessly, finally the (nearly) unstoppable team they were, it seemed, always destined to be. Frankly, Tony was a little surprised to learn that, even back then, Bucky moved with an inhuman grace -- how had no one ever noticed? Never figured out that he was _already_ a super-soldier?

All too soon, the wall of one car was blasted open; Tony knew what came next, was tempted to close his eyes. Bucky found himself gripping a bar for dear life, dangling over a valley, his aura pure green. Past-Steve inched out to him, but wasn't fast enough to keep Bucky from slipping to his seeming death.

Tony saw current-Steve's white-knuckled fist shaking at his side, tears streaming as he relived what was certainly one of the worst days of his life -- and seeing it from a new perspective, no less. Bucky's terrified scream seemed endless as the sky raced away from him -- it was almost a blessing when the sound was cut off as Bucky hit the side of the mountain. His aura flared bright red before the image disappeared.

The next memories were patchy as Bucky fluctuated in and out of consciousness, his aura almost constantly the bright red of pain. There was him being found, then him waking up in a strange place, strapped to a gurney, with much of his arm missing. His red aura remained at that point, but alternated with terror-green upon discovering the absence of his limb -- until he passed out.

He awoke the next time naked, save for a bandage around the stub of his arm (and the pixelisation Freud provided for his dignity), in a damp cell, empty save for a bucket for waste and a drain. "What are you going to do with me?" he asked the guards playing chess outside his cage.

They ignored him, speaking to each other in Russian (and saying nothing of interest, Freud revealed).

Weak and in agony, he struggled to drag himself into a corner, where he shivered and sobbed, aura blue-grey with cobalt and green (due likely to the uncertainty of his predicament), alternating with red-hot pain.

Time moved fast, like a video being fast-forwarded. They saw food thrown at him through the bars, saw him sprayed down with a hose, saw his hand rapped if he dared touch the bars, and saw him sometimes prodded with a fireplace poker for being to close to them. Guards swapped out; none of them seemed to speak English. The red aura faded (though didn't completely vanish). When the bandage finally fell off, Bucky's arm was revealed to be almost healed over already. The green faded too -- and the blue-gray became just grey, Bucky slipping into catatonia.

And then -- a couple of days after waking in the cell, maybe three -- someone new came: a Russian doctor who spoke English, checking on Bucky's arm and vitals as best he could through the bars. Bucky complied, his grey aura regaining the blue tint, as well as having beams of white shining through -- hope.

"What's going to happen to me?"

The doctor shrugged. "I don't know _precisely_ , only that we are to keep you alive for Zola. Seems you were an experiment of his, and he's not done with you yet."

Green-and-cobalt alarm. "What _kind_ of experiment?"

The doctor laughed. "Why, a super-soldier experiment, same as the one that created your friend, Captain America!"

Bucky scowled in confusion. "I'm not a super-soldier!"

"Aren't you? How else do you think you survived the fall?"

Bucky's aura went purple and cobalt as he thought on it.

"Here." The doctor slipped one box, then another, then another through the bars, snapping in Russian at the guards when they protested. "Can't have you losing your mind in there -- you wouldn't last long, then, eh? Just ... be frugal." He left, but not before saying something commanding to the guards, which Freud translated: "Those are his. Spread the word. If anything is missing next I come, we'll have two less guards living among us."

Inside the box were clothes, blankets, a chocolate bar, a book (the collected stories of Sherlock Holmes), and a radio.

Not knowing what kind of battery life the radio had, or whether the doctor would bring more, Bucky only allowed himself an hour or so of listening per guard shift. And so the time -- days? Weeks? -- passed, unmarked by fluctuation of light, again moving fast like a video recording.

It slowed to normal speed at a moment when Bucky had the radio on, having miraculously found a station in English (Tony suspected the radio was augmented somehow).

"This just in," the announcer began, sounding strangely reserved. "Captain Steve Rogers, better known as Captain America, has apparently fallen in the line of duty."

Sickly green; Bucky looked like he'd been shot. "It's not true," Bucky told himself numbly, staring at the radio.

"Reports say he flew a enemy aircraft into the Arctic, in an effort to prevent the remote devices aboard it from unleashing on the major cities of the world."

"This is some kind of trick!" Bucky insisted, his panicked expression suggesting he didn't believe his own words, but the rays of white in his blue-gray aura showing that he cleaved to hope.

"Howard Stark had this to say ...."

"We haven't given up on our great Captain."

Tony recognised his father's voice. 

"That _is_ Howard," Bucky whispered, his face falling and the white in his aura dwindling as he apparently realised it _wasn't_ a trick.

"I have teams searching as we speak, by boat, plane, even via submarine," Howard continued, voice hard with resolve. "I will spare no expense -- we _will_ find him and bring him home. I ... I just pray he's _alive_ when we do." Bucky's face crumpled as he lay his head on his knees, in his remaining arm, stifling a sob. "And while we have, at this point, no expectations of finding Sergeant James Barnes alive, the search for him continues as well."

Bucky perked up only slightly at that, a flash of pink gratitude for Howard's efforts and a small white flash of hope before grief overwhelmed him. Any remaining white faded, blue-gray alternating with purple-and-red anguish as he sobbed like never before.

"I wouldn't delude myself into thinking anyone could find me, or that someone could survive being in that icy water for long, not even you. Shows what I know," Barnes chuckled.

The guards apparently grew annoyed with Bucky's tears, poking him with a broom handle and telling him, in Russian, to shut up. He curled on his side, into a ball, shaking with stifled tears until he slept. When he awoke, the catatonia returned, his aura plain, numb grey. When he refused to eat, they fed him intravenously; he didn't care enough to put up a fight. The doctor tried to rouse him, coax him back to life, to no avail.

Zola came. Tony knew the man had been in prison for about a year, which meant Bucky had likely spent all that time basically a shell of a man, forgotten even by himself.

Bucky should have hated Zola, the man that had stolen both his life _and_ his death, but Bucky showed no sign of any emotion upon the man's arrival.

"I can't see what good he would be like this," the other doctor observed. "All the fight went out of him the day he heard his Captain America was gone."

"But don't you see, my friend? That's _perfect!_ " Zola insisted. "The catatonia, the lack of fight, will only serve to make him even more receptive to my techniques!"

And then they came to the moment Tony had read about: the surgery where the rest of Bucky's arm had been removed, with ineffectual anaesthesia. Between this moment, the treatment, and the fall, Tony suspected the screams of Bucky Barnes would haunt him the rest of his life. He didn't want to watch, but he did -- and he wasn't sure if it was really because he felt he owed it to the man to bear witness (as he told himself he did), or if it was innately, morbidly human to be drawn to awful happenings, like people being unable to look away from a train wreck ....

Then came drugs, brainwashing films, torture .... More screams -- and deafening silences where Bucky's eyes were empty, like he was nothing but a corpse turned into a puppet.

 _Finally_ , they reached what seemed to be the pivotal moment: when Bucky was programmed with the trigger-words.

Barnes skipped past it, to the Winter Soldier's training.

"Hey, what are you--" Tony protested.

Barnes paused the scene. "I'm sorry, but I ... I can't do that yet. I can't ... _face_ that yet. And ... I ... I think I ... I need people to _see_ what I ..."

"Hey, hey, we know, we get it. We don't need to see it -- we _believe_ you! We understand!" Tony insisted. Truth be told, he was afraid Barnes was going to show him the murder of his parents again, and he just. Couldn't. Go through that again!

" _Do_ you understand?" Barnes whispered, eyes glistening. "I don't think you really _can_ \-- not just by what you read, o-or what you've seen in grainy footage ...."

"He's got a point, man," Sam weighed in. "Even when I _knew_ he was no longer activated, I couldn't bring myself to trust him, couldn't forget what he did to me when he wasn't himself. Couldn't stop treating him like he was the enemy." He gave Barnes an apologetic glance, and the man nodded back.

"And _I_ tried to _kill_ him, refusing to even _consider_ his innocence," T'Challa added.

Tony sighed. "And so did I. Okay, point taken."

"And like the man said, reading a report isn't the same as actually going _through_ it," Sam continued. "But Stark, you've made something here that can let us come a step closer to _doing_ that. To _truly_ understanding -- feeling _empathy_ instead of just _sympathy_."

"A burden shared is a burden halved," Steve spoke up finally, his face pleading as he looked to Tony.

"Your ma used to say that," Barnes said with a soft smile -- which quickly faded. "This is gonna get ugly," he warned. "I ... You'll look at me _differently_ after this."

"Bucky, _no_ , I--"

"I _know_ you will, because _I_ do. I'm not the same man I was. It's too late to go back to being him -- _he_ didn't go through the things _I_ have. It'd be like trying to put the egg back in a broken shell. But if _you_ see the same things, _you'll_ be different _too_ , and--" He stopped short, his expression growing horrified. He shook his head, taking the glasses off. "No. No, I'm being selfish -- I can't put you through that, just so you can ... what, even? Relate to me better? God, what was I _thinking?!_ "

Steve took the glasses, setting them down, then held Bucky's hand. "Hey. How many times I gotta say it, Buck? If I can go through it with you, I _will_. I'm with you, till the end of the line."

Bucky's lip trembled. "Even _now_ , after you saw ..." he choked, "... h-how I _feel_ about ...?" he whispered.

Steve took Bucky's face in both hands. "God, Buck, _especially_ now! Listen, when this is over, I've got some things to show you, too, but we're gonna get through _this, your_ story, _first_ , okay? Like I promised -- no more interruptions."

Bucky laid his hand over Steve's. He closed his eyes, leaning into Steve's touch even as he protested, "But ... the things I _did_ \--"

"Hey, we convinced everyone _else_ here that it wasn't you; what's it gonna take to convince _you?_ "

"I told you, I _know_ that it wasn't really my fault, but it was still _my hands! My eyes!_ That leaves ... stains ... _scars_ .... I don't wanna scar _you_ , too! And I don't wanna see what I've been through mirrored back when you look at me! I want to still see the man I _was_ when I look at you -- even if it's not me anymore."

"Just because you see yourself differently now doesn't mean _I_ will! Haven't I _always_ seen you differently than you saw yourself, anyway? Isn't that the way it is with _everyone?_ Besides, you may not be exactly the same as you were before they brainwashed you, but you _did_ get _through_ it! And I _know_ my Bucky _is_ still in there -- you wouldn't have been able to show us his memories if he wasn't still part of you! Who you are now didn't _erase_ him, just ... _added_ to him.

"As for _me_ being changed ... I'm _already_ changed. We change a little every day, with every new experience. I sure as hell ain't the same guy who fell into the ocean all those years ago! I have my own scars. For that matter, my biggest change took place well before the ocean -- when I became as tall as you! So don't you have confidence in me that I can at _least_ survive your _memories_ , when you came out of the _real thing_? Aren't I as strong as you, now, after the serum?" he half laughed.

"Stronger," Bucky realised, looking Steve in the eyes with his own full of wonder. "You always were, in here." He laid his hand over Steve's heart. 

Steve laid a hand over Bucky's. "Well, I might debate you on that sometime -- especially after what you showed us today -- but either way, we're _both_ even stronger _together_. So, if you can't go backwards, let me help you go _forward_ , get _past_ the Winter Soldier. You might always have his scars, but that doesn't mean you have to stay in his _shadow_." He took Bucky's hand between his own. "Not while _I'm_ around."

Bucky gave him a sappy smile. "My sunshine through dark clouds ...."

Steve returned the look. "And don't you forget it!"

"And don't either of you start singing, please!" Tony begged. "When Fred sang that song on _Angel_ , it did _not_ lead to a happy ending, and I already feel like Joss Whedon has been writing the script of my life!"

Barnes looked to Steve, who shrugged, equally lost.

"Stark, I speak several languages, and I have no idea what you just said," Barnes told Tony.

Tony sighed. "Just that you have many hours of binge-watching ahead of you, so let's get rolling again. Do watcha gotta do."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bucky having pneumonia and broken ribs comes from the aforementioned comic.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freud recommends the use of another new feature in the programme. They witness the creation and destruction of the Winter Soldier persona, and discuss its nature.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter describes scenes depicted in _The Winter Soldier_ and _Civil War_.
> 
> This chapter posted in honour of Sebastian Stan's birthday. The entire fic is dedicated to him.

(O)  
Barnes put the glasses back on and cued up the first training / testing session of the Winter Soldier.

"If I might make a suggestion, sir," Freud broke in, pausing the scene.

"Yes?" Barnes replied hesitantly. (In that same moment, Tony said the same, more confidently -- and then realised with chagrin that Freud was talking to Barnes. _Not everything is about you, Tony,_ he chided himself.)

"I can see that there was a great deal of subconscious activity going on when the events of this memory initially took place," Freud revealed. "Using the Dreamcatcher protocol, I can superimpose that activity over the scene here. I believe it will offer significant insight -- and perhaps even help with the reprogramming, when the time comes."

"Do it," Barnes ordered, a sudden hope in his eyes that Tony hadn't even realised was missing before.

Tony was relieved; he wasn't sure he could have held back from giving the command himself, it was such a great idea -- one of his better ones, really, and he was excited to get to see it in action. But he also wanted to respect the man's right to choose his own method of treatment -- especially given how little choosing he'd actually gotten to do for so long ....

Another Bucky appeared, transparent and floating, behind the Soldier. He had a cobalt aura with dark, anger-red lightning and threads of fear-green. The blank-eyed Soldier had a faint aura of black. 

"What have you done to me?" the ghostly Bucky asked Zola -- who of course couldn't hear him. "What's happening? Why can't I move?"

Then the Soldier was attacked, and _did_ move -- with Ghost!Bucky looking on helplessly. "How is this happening? This isn't _me -- I'm_ not doing this! _How are you controlling me??_ " He tried repeatedly to put his ghostly his arms into his flesh ones; the first two tries, the ghost arms simply went through the flesh. On the third try, he managed to take back some control, pausing his motion for a full second, resulting in the Soldier getting punched in the face -- and the ghost popping out again.

"Huh. He's resisting," Zola noted. "We'll tweak the treatment."

"Understand, it's not what it looks like -- not quite like I was turned into a passenger in my own body, with another person entirely driving," Barnes interjected, pausing the scene. "I mean ... they didn't put a _totally new_ person in my head, or turn me into a robot -- they needed me to be able to think on my own, in case things went south on a mission.

"It was more like they'd somehow ... _skewed_ my reality. Made me believe I was something different. The things I learned and did as the Soldier -- it's all part of _me_ , always _has_ been. That means, to at least _some_ small extent, I _made_ those choices, based on who I _thought_ I was: a loyal Soviet patriot, the greatest soldier who'd ever lived, who'd volunteered to be an experiment, like Steve Rogers had done. They tapped into my real wish to be the kind of man he'd been. 

"They also did a very good job of convincing me I was the type of person who _would_ do the things they wanted me to do -- and suppressing the piece of me that wouldn't have allowed it. They ... _cordoned off_ part of my self -- the ghost you see now. They suppressed my compassion, my love, and any and all desires other than to be the best at my job, to please my superiors. I _know_ I would _NOT_ have done the things they ordered me to if I'd been _whole_ \-- and that's the only reason I can forgive myself even a little bit. As it was, I was supposed to _enjoy_ my work, but I didn't. I guess it was my one little victory over the programming ...."

"I don't think they just tried to _surpress_ the ghost," Freud weighed in. "From what I can see, they had no intention of letting that part of you stay at _all_. It's more like ... your mind found a way to protect that part of yourself from the treatment.

"Think of your mind as a computer; the hardware is always you, but the treatment was a virus that tried very hard to overwrite your software -- your personality -- keeping what was useful and warping or outright deleting the rest. Your antivirus programme couldn't hold it off completely, but it did manage to make a copy of your original software and put it behind a firewall. Now your brain is trying to put pieces back where they belong, overriding the virus, but it can't completely erase certain things -- shared files like languages and skills, for example."

Barnes nodded thoughtfully, then returned to the story.

After another treatment, there was more training. This time, the ghost -- dark-red-aura-ed and screaming epithets at the Soldier, Zola, and everyone in the room -- failed to gain any sort of foothold in his body.

The same went for the Soldier's first mission. As he lined up his shot, ready to kill, the green-black-aura-ed ghost tearfully begged the Soldier not to do this, trying to retake control of the arms -- to no avail. Dozens more missions, and the ghost's efforts became more and more half-hearted, until his aura was the grey of accepted defeat. "So _this_ is what Hell is," the ghost remarked as a scene faded, bringing the surroundings back to it's non-holographic state.

"Stark ... you might want to leave the room," Barnes warned quietly, looking apprehensive.

Tony understood, stomach dropping as he broke into a cold sweat. He wanted to do as Barnes suggested -- oh, how he wanted to! -- but decided he owed it to his parents _and_ Barnes to get the whole story. "I'm staying."

Barnes nodded once, and went back to the telling.

The Winter Soldier had been defrosted, and was handed a file. He read through it, the ghost reading over his shoulder. 

The ghost's grey aura suddenly blazed green, the ghost's eyes widening in horror. "No, you _can't!_ He tried to _find_ me, _save_ me!" He glanced around, frantic. "We can't do this -- we have to get _out_ of here, once and for all!" He thrust his arms into the Soldier ....

This time, it seemed to work.

"I think it was easier this time because they hadn't given me a treatment in a while," Barnes noted.

"Fffrrriieh ... _friend_ ..." the Soldier said, panting from the effort, a spark of life in his eyes. He got groggily to his feet. "C-can't k-kill my f-frrfriend!"

"What in hell is _wrong_ with him??" asked tech, in Russian.

"He seems to be ... _remembering!_ " the handler replied. "I think we better wipe him."

The Soldier, black aura now opaque and streaked with passionate dark red, raised a shaking hand, forming a fist, and clumsily lashed out. A fight ensued, the Soldier becoming steadier -- and more Bucky -- by the moment. " _I won't kill my friend!_ "

The handler managed to tranq him, but not before there was a casualty.

When he came out of treatment this time, the ghost was fainter than ever. Still, the ghost fought, begging his body not to do this, to remember that Howard was his friend -- and that the man's wife was an innocent. After the wreck, as the Soldier approached the vehicle, the ghost noticed the camera.

"Is that ...?" White light broke through dark-grey aura.

And then the Soldier was killing Tony's parents (and Tony was trying hard not to throw up, appreciating the comforting hands Steve and T'challa each lay on his shoulders). The ghost did his damndest to stop the body from acting, tearfully begging, and trying again to take control of his arms. The deeds done, the ghost dropped to his knees, sobbing.

Suddenly, he got a crazed look in his eye. He leapt up, trying hard to turn the Soldier's head in his hands.

" _Look at the camera, asshole!! Let the world see our face!_ " And maybe the Soldier heard him, obeyed him, because he noticed the camera -- and destroyed it.

"Yeah, well ... that feed went somewhere," the ghost insisted. "Somebody saw it or _will_ see it! They'll know what we did -- and they'll kill us for it!" The ghost looked skyward, tears streaming. "Do you hear me? If there's any compassion in you at all, let someone _see_! Let them hunt me down and _kill_ me -- and finally _free_ me!"

"Of course God only answered my prayer after I'd finally gotten _out_ of that situation," Barnes noted ruefully. His face crumpled then, eyes and mouth shut tight against grief, body trembling.

Tony felt a wet, warm drop slide down his own cheek, and wasn't sure if that particular tear was in response to the death of his parents, or the horror he'd just witnessed Bucky going through. It wasn't all that different from when one of his empty suits has threatened Pepper. Well, except in one key way ....

He could see Steve tensing to come forward, obviously struggling with his promise, but Tony beat him to it anyway. He came to stand in front of Barnes, and put a hand on the man's good shoulder.

"Hey. I'm sorry about ... what I tried to do."

Bucky's eyes flew open. " _You're_ sorry? _I'm_ the one who k--" He choked, took a few shuddering breath through still-falling tears, and tried again. "I killed my friend! And an innocent woman! I killed your _parents!_ You had every reason to want me _dead!_ "

"No, several million people who lost their homes and loved ones to weapons of _my making_ \-- my fully conscious, non-controlled, aware-of-what-I-was doing making -- have every reason to want _me_ dead. The people who'd been hurt by my father's inventions had reason to want _him_ dead -- and so did the people who wanted his creations. He didn't have to make more serum -- he had to know there were people who would do anything to get it, and he chose to do it anyway. You said it was your choice to kill him and all those others, but we saw just now what HYDRA did to you -- what the _war_ did. You were a ... an iron _frying pan_ ; the military re-made you into a gun, pretty much against your will, and then HYDRA eliminated the safety! You basically said it yourself: HYDRA took away your ability to _make_ a different choice!

"But even though you were in an impossible situation, you _tried_ to keep it from happening. You _didn't_ just sit by -- I wouldn't blame you now if you _had_. But I _thank you_ for trying." Tony was dimly aware that his face was doing an impression of Niagara falls -- or, well, an impression of the face right in front of him. "And on behalf of ... _every_ citizen of the United States, I thank you for your service and your sacrifice. I'm sorry for everything you've gone through, and like I promised before, I'm gonna do my damndest to help you get past it. Okay?"

Barnes nodded with a sob.

"Okay," Tony smiled, hugging the man. He didn't even mind that, despite only having one arm (Tony was going to gave to do something about that), Barnes gripped him tightly enough to make him wish he had the protection of an Iron Man suit, or that Barnes had begun crying in earnest on one of his favourite Versaces. He just wanted Barnes to get better, for _someone_ to get back what HYDRA had taken -- but he was also starting to wonder if that was really even possible ....

He caught Steve's eye over Bucky's shoulder, seeing Cap was nearly as distressed as Bucky, visibly itching to comfort his friend. _Not yet_ , Tony silently mouthed at him. Shoulders falling, Steve nodded.

Tony pulled back. "You ready to keep going?" he asked gently. "Forwards or backwards, whichever you want."

Barnes thought for a moment, removing the glasses to clean them (and wipe his face), then nodded. Tony resumed his place beside Steve.

Barnes skipped ahead to the day the Soldier and Steve finally met again. Steve had spotted the Soldier on a rooftop, and thrown his shield at him. The Soldier had caught it, and thrown it back, but not before the ghost -- who had faded more than ever, just hovering around the Soldier with a grey aura -- had taken notice.

"That shield ..." The ghost turned his attention to the man who had thrown it. The grey aura was suddenly obliterated by white light. "Steve?? _Steve!_ You're _alive!_ Haaah!" He grabbed his hair in amazed disbelief, smiling and laughing like a loon, his tears happy for once.

The Soldier took off. As he ran, the ghost tried again to renter his body, to no avail.

Steve and the Soldier met again on the streets of DC, as the Soldier fought Romanov, Steve replacing Natasha in the fray. 

"No! Nonononono!! _DON'T HURT MY STEVIE, ASSHOLE!!_ " Aura now determination-gold -- along with a cobalt-and-green, red-orange, and a dark-red-and-black -- the ghost sought to re-enter his body -- and this time, momentarily succeeded when Steve called out Bucky's name. They could see the Soldier regain some semblance of personality ....

Yet he still wasn't himself, asking, "Who the hell is Bucky?"

"Once the ghost was in control, it had to contend with the reprogramming, which Hydra had strengthened since he'd nearly regained himself before," Freud told them. "It seems akin to waking up from a dream which one barely remembers. The ghost had only a tentative link to the memories it had when it was behind the firewall."

A moment later, the ghost lost control again, and the Soldier took aim.

Falcon tackled the Soldier; the ghost cheered. The Soldier tried again to shoot, and this time had to dodge a grenade. The explosion disoriented the Soldier, enough for the ghost to re-enter. Confused, he ran off -- back to the HYDRA base, which his remodeled brain was telling him was a safe place.

Except, when he got there, and the techs began to hurt him in the name of the kind of first aid that came from careless hands with no painkillers, he turned on the techs, attacking them.

"The Soldier's programming began to yield under the weight of more and more memories slipping past the ... what did you call it?" Bucky asked.

"A firewall," Freud replied.

"Right. I was starting to think they were enemies, and that the man I'd met was someone important to me. And then Pierce had to go and show up."

An authoritative man (Pierce, Tony remembered now from the news after the fall of SHIELD) came in, his peons complaining that the Soldier was out of control. The ghost-filled Soldier wouldn't respond when Pierce first asked for a mission report. Pierce smacked him; Tony felt an overwhelming urge to hit Pierce back, and was extremely disappointed that the Soldier didn't. Tony glanced at Steve just then; if looks could kill, even a hologram would die. The Soldier, rather than doing as he was told, dared to ask who the man on the bridge was, saying he knew him. Pierce lied that it was just because he'd seen Steve on the rooftop. The ghost-Soldier reiterated that he _knew_ him.

Pierce ordered him wiped.

They saw the helicarrier battle next. The ghost was even fainter this time, auras green with cobalt and black with red streaks. As the black-aura-ed Winter Soldier made short work of foe after foe, the ghost was less effective than ever in his attempt to stop his body.

The Soldier shot Steve; the ghost screamed, gaining a bright-red-and-purple aura of anguish, and a blue-grey of grief. As the Soldier relentlessly went after Steve, the ghost both begged his body to stop, and redoubled his effort to regain control -- and started to succeed! It flickered like a satellite TV during a rainstorm, the ghostly image seeming stronger now, (at least when it wasn't merged with the body).

Unfortunately, the internal struggle of Soldier and ghost, the confusion and turmoil, seemed to lend passion to the Soldier's fight -- as well as a determination to fulfill his mission, likely the only certainty in his life.

And then Steve, refusing to fight his best friend, repeated back to Bucky the words Bucky had said to him, after his mother had died: "I'm with you, till the end of the line."

Tony wondered if those words worked something like the trigger words HYDRA had programmed the man with in the first place.

It was then that the ghost merged with the body for good. Black aura faded to grey and gained streaks of horror-green, and the purple-and-cobalt of confusion entered the mix. As the restored Bucky watched, seeming frozen in his uncertainty, Steve fell through the vessel, into the Potomac below.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They learn what Bucky's been up to since the Potomac -- and come up with a plan to undo the brainwashing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter describes scenes depicted in _Civil War_.

(O)

"I had no idea what to do in that moment. The ... firewall hadn't finished coming down, not by a longshot, but new information was leaking in, and it didn't fit with what I'd been told. Killing Steve was my mission, but I no longer wanted to complete it. But if I didn't, what was I to do next? Of course, with the helicarrier crashing, I had a more pressing decision: stay and die, or leave and live? It was actually a hard decision ...."

Bucky jumped.

"Part of the reason I chose life was the sense that I had to save that man falling into the river. I told myself that, if I wasn't going to kill the man, then I should make sure he _lived_ , or else I was disobeying orders for nothing."

They watched Bucky find Steve in the water and drag him to shore, checking to see if he was still alive. Steve's aura, like Bucky's, was purple-and-cobalt confusion, but there was a hint of magenta -- and of fear-green.

"In reality, I was dealing with the return of my feelings for Steve; I just hadn't the slightest idea what the feelings _meant_. They unsettled me, made me want to get away. Maybe part of me, unconsciously, was afraid of hurting him again. Or, maybe I was ashamed of what I'd become, and didn't want him to see any more of that. It's certainly how I came to feel over time ....

"At any rate, I knew from the mission files Pierce had given me that Steve was a super-soldier, and therefore would likely survive his injuries -- so long as he got medical help sooner rather than later."

Bucky's demeanor somewhere between empty and grim, he went in search of a payphone, calling for an ambulance and giving Steve's location, his actions expedient but unemotional.

"I decided that returning to my superiors -- to the life I'd had with them -- wasn't an option. Either they were about to mostly be captured, thanks to my failure on the helecarrier, or else they would hurt me -- maybe even kill me -- because of that failure. I found myself suddenly not caring whether they were happy or not -- and, conversely, finally caring whether or not _I_ lived or died.

"I assessed my situation, reckoning I needed clothes, food, currency, and information, if I was going to go off on my own. In that light, I _did_ return to the base -- but just to get the things I needed. Well, that's how it started out, anyway ...."

They saw him return to the bank. He ignored the people scrambling around there at first, trying to act like he had a legitimate purpose in being there as he looked around for supplies. They kept pressing him for details about the helecarriers, Pierce, and the Triskelion, which he only vaguely supplied with terse answers (it was easy, Barnes said; he didn't know much).

And then he saw the chair, the one they "treated" him in. His aura went red and black, a look of profound hostility sliding across his features.

"When I saw that chair ... something inside me snapped. I remembered some of how they'd tortured me, and I was starting to understand how my life had been stolen from me. I wish I could say I had more altruistic reasons for what happened next, like I wanted to keep them from hurting others ... but self-defence is about as noble as I can manage. Mostly? I was just blinded by rage."

Bucky massacred everyone in the bank.

Barnes turned to Tony, who was feeling sick again. "I wasn't under their control when I did this. Still want to help me?" Barnes asked grimly.

"Yes," Tony answered without the hesitation he felt. "I'm no better -- arguably worse. I mean, I tried my damndest to kill you, even knowing you'd been brainwashed! These people, on the other hand, weren't innocents -- they'd tortured you of their own free will. We were at _war_ with these people. I wouldn't have faulted you on a battlefield, and these people posed an ongoing threat to everyone; even if that hadn't fed your motive, the kind of people they were was _still_ what _led_ to you killing them. With all that in mind, I'd be a hypocrite to fault you for what you did to them. And frankly, they were swift executions -- you didn't torture them. I'm not sure I _wouldn't_ have, in your shoes."

Barnes looked surprised, then thoughtful. "It still sickens me," he decided finally, as he looked again on the carnage.

"Then that just proves to me all the more that helping you _isn't_ a mistake," Tony replied.

"If it's any consolation," Freud offered, "as near as I can extrapolate, when this event occurred? You seemed to have still been greatly under the influence of your brainwashing, which included instilling in you a penchant for brutality. Essentially, they made you into the instrument of their own destruction."

"There you go -- it was karma!" Tonny supplied.

Barnes still didn't seem at peace about it -- which Tony counted as a point in the man's favour.

They saw Bucky empty out deposit boxes filled with cash and other valuables, HYDRA apparently having continued using the bank as originally intended, at least to some extent. Barnes explained that much of it was used by operatives on missions, himself included. They saw him also rifle through personal effects in desks and lockers, piling items into a couple of backpacks he found among them.

"Thankfully, they'd taught me how to use a computer! I downloaded everything I could from the computers in the base into a laptop, taking it with me. They'd also programmed me with an understanding of basic human interactions -- how to buy goods, social niceties, et cetera -- presumably so I could get by and stay under the radar if something happened to my handlers, at least until they could retrieve me. I knew where several safehouses were, so I chose the one least likely to be occupied already, and moved in, holing myself up and learning all I could -- about what they'd done to me, and about the world in general, thanks to stolen wifi and the Internet."

They saw him looking up an article on the condition of Steve, and saw cobalt-and-green go blue-white in relief over a bit of text that said the man would be fine.

"Eventually, I ventured out to a nearby store for a few things."

They saw Bucky passing a display of tourist brochures in a vestibule, then pausing and backing up. Hand shaking, he tentatively picked up one for the Smithsonian, with Captain America on the cover. He gasped and wavered, sitting heavily on a bench against the wall, staring at the image. They saw little movies of his memories play before him, scenes of Steve and Bucky from during the war.

"Other than the flash of memory I got while hitting Steve, of the day of Steve's mother's funeral, _this_ was the moment I really started remembering life _before_ my brainwashing."

After a long moment, the memories faded; it took another long moment for the man to recover. They saw Bucky buy a notebook, a pen, a disposable camera, and sandwich bags with his other groceries. When he got "home", he made a few PB&J sandwiches; packed them, a plum, a couple of cokes, the writing supplies, a wallet, a wad of cash, and the camera into a backpack; and set out again -- to the museum.

He apparently spent the rest of the day there, studying and taking photos of every placard in the "Captain America and the Howling Commandos" exhibit. In particular, he spent quite a bit of time staring at the images of Steve (all of them having faint auras of magenta) -- and at the memorial image of himself, carved into plexiglass.

"It was so surreal, seeing this man with my face, knowing I was reading my own story ... and not knowing _any_ of it, save for little flashes of memory."

At times, he would get woozy, his purple-and-cobalt aura getting brighter, bigger; when that happened, he would find a place to sit, even if it was just an out-of-way bit of floor, and start writing what he'd seen. He also bought several books, and a few posters and postcards, about the captain and the Commandos, from the gift shop.

At home, he read long into the night.

By day, he alternated randomly amongst five different libraries, seven different coffee shops, three parks, the zoo, and each museum in town. Sometimes, he would sketch instead of write. When people tried to engage him in conversation, he would speak back in Russian, shrugging, pretending not to understand them.

"Jesus Effing Christ," Sam swore, putting a hand over his eyes and shaking his head. "We were looking to the criminal underground, police reports of attacks, HYDRA connections, bustin' our asses for clues about where you went, and here you were, _in town_ , basically living like a college student."

"Sorry," Barnes replied, grinning, clearly not sorry in the slightest. (Tony was glad to see this sign of the impish young man from the pre-war memories.)

Steve burst out laughing, Sam chuckling in turn. "Shhhh! No interruptions!" Steve chided in a stage whisper.

"I hate you both," Sam deadpanned.

Smiling a moment longer at that statement, Barnes sobered as he resumed his tale, the hologram illustrating what he told them. "As time went on, and I remembered more and more, I had ... _still_ have horrible nightmares. I've spent a lot of time depressed, realising that pretty much everything I knew was gone. I was torn between the urge to reach out to Steve, or even to my surviving relatives, and to hide, out of shame. I was ... horribly, _horribly_ alone, but also terrified of being caught and used again, so I would never do anything where there was a risk of being noticed. Of being _remembered_. I'd carry food and secretly leave it by homeless, secretly helping out everyday people in need in little ways, trying to atone as best I could in the shadows.

"After a few months, I found a HYDRA agent in my flat."

He killed the man. They saw other places, other people, some who were also killed -- but some who were not.

"I realised there might be more HYDRA operatives that escaped arrest, so I started travelling between safehouses, looking and listening for them. Sometimes, I would flag the authorities to deal with them, if I felt the authority in the area could be trusted. Other times, I took care of things myself -- especially if the operative was particularly dangerous. But as time went on, I found fewer and fewer enemies. I went five months without incident.

"And then came the day Zemo framed me."

They saw Bucky writing in a notebook, aura a light blue-grey with streaks of white. He picked up a glossy, magenta-aura-ed picture of Cap, kissed it, and stuck it in the notebook before closing it.

Next, they saw him at a fruit-stand, walking away with his purchase, when something caught his eye: a paper with his name and face on it, claiming he'd set off a bomb and killed people. His aura went instantly colbalt-streaked green, rotating with dark-red-streaked black.

"I was in a panic, trying to account for every single second of the previous twenty-four hours, even though I had already done that -- I was _always_ doing that, making sure I hadn't blacked out at any point."

When he came home to find Steve waiting for him, a strangely oxymoronic white-yet-dark-red-streaked aura joined the rotation. Steve's auras mirrored the cobalt- green and the red-white, but the main aura was, unsurprisingly, magenta with orange stripes.

"I didn't know what to do," Barnes admitted to Steve. "I wanted to hug you and to run at the same time. I was thrilled to see you, and furious that you were there, complicating the hell out of things at the worst possible moment."

Bucky pretended not to know memory-Steve, only know _of_ Captain America, but Steve wasn't buying it.

"I knew it was a longshot, but I'd hoped if I made it seem like I was completely gone, with no sign of my memory after all that time, you'd give up on me."

"Never," Steve whispered.

Bucky's flat was suddenly overrun with operatives, every single one of them with a black aura. "It wasn't fair. I was slowly building a life -- finally was starting to feel I _deserved_ one again -- and here these people were, trying to kill me. And not for what I had actually done, either! But my main reason for running was that I wasn't convinced they _would_ kill me. What if they knew how to control me? I couldn't give anyone the chance to use me like that again. But of course, I failed to escape."

"I am sorry for that," T'Challa spoke up.

"De nada," Barnes replied with a gentle smile. "It ultimately worked out for the best -- I might never have gotten to this point, otherwise. Back with Steve, possibly about to be freed from my programming ...."

They saw him in the glass cage he'd been put into after capture, aura the gray of defeat, but looking as dangerous as an angry grizzly nonetheless. Zemo sat before him, questioning him.

The scene paused.

"Zemo uses the keywords on me here," Barnes warned. "Have we figured out how to handle this?"

"Even if the memory triggers the Soldier in the present-day Barnes, and he can no longer control his memories, _I_ can stop the scene before Zemo actually gives any commands," Freud pointed out. "There is a very strong probability that the Dreamcatcher protocol can then integrate the consciousness of the current Barnes with the subconscious version of Bucky, the part that isn't controlled by the code. I believe that he can then use the ghost to order himself to never be triggered by the keywords again."

"And if that doesn't work?" Steve asked.

" _You_ can try commanding him, if you can manage to say the code correctly," Freud replied. "But even if it turns out you can't command him to ignore the code--"

"You can still punch me out," Barnes finished with a lopsided smile. "Cognitive dissonance."

"I _was_ going to suggest that you could probably command him to snap out of it, but whatever you're comfortable with," Freud finished dryly. (Definitely a note of JARVIS in there ....)

Steve took a deep breath. "Well ... are you ready?"

"I think the _rest_ of us should leave the room," T'Challa suggested. "This is going the be an especially vulnerable moment for Barnes, and besides which, I'm sure the fewer people who know the code, the better."

"You don't _trust_ me?" Kasumba looked betrayed.

"With my life, my friend," T'Challa assured her, "but the best of intentions don't change that there exists beings in this universe who can pluck a thought out of a head like it was a hair."

She seemed mollified by that, but, "What if he goes berserk?"

"I trust the captain to be able to handle things, but if not, we will still be right outside the door," the king assured the security chief.

She sighed and nodded.

Aya, T'Challa, Kasumba, and Sam left; Tony was following them, until Barnes called out to him, stopping him short.

"I don't like this," Barnes told him. "I don't want Steve alone with me when I'm the Soldier. So will _you_ stay, at least? Please?"

"You'd trust me that much? Even after I ..." Tony asked.

Barnes nodded. "Why're you surprised? I've already trusted you _this_ much," he pointed out, waving a hand at the hologram.

"Besides, I think we should have someone here to deal with the tech if there's a problem," Steve weighed in.

Tony wondered if the man intended this as an olive branch, a show of faith, and was touched by the notion -- even if he didn't feel like he'd earned it yet.

"Yeah, but ... I _can_ just _show_ you how to shut it all off ...."

"It'd be hard to do that if I'm holding Bucky," Steve pointed out.

" _Holding?_ " Barnes squeaked, eyes wide. 

"Yeah," Steve replied with a gentle look, then came up behind Barnes, slipping his arms around his torso, putting his chin on his shoulder. Barnes shivered and blushed, lips parted in obvious desire.

(If it wasn't as obvious as Tony thought, the nipples suddenly poking through the man's tanktop and the slight tenting of his sweatpants were surely clues -- which, of course, Steve couldn't see from his position. Tony was veeery curious as to whether Steve-the-Probably-Virgin was at all cognizant of what he was doing to Barnes ....)

"Is this all right?" Steve asked.

"Y-yeah," Barnes managed (barely), voice rough. 

Tony dragged the table with BARF's controls over to by the door, then opened said door to quickly explained the change in plans. Closing it again, he put one hand on BARF's off switch and the other on the door handle, ready to let the others back in if there was a problem. Barnes stood opposite him, Steve peeking over his friend's shoulder, and the hologram between them, with the imprisoned Bucky on one side and Zemo on the other. Steve was giving Zemo a lethal look, just like the one he'd given Pierce.

Steve put one hand on the glasses, ready to yank them off. Counting Freud, they now had a triple fail-safe against the memory of Zemo's orders continuing on after the command code was given, commanding the Soldier to kill everyone in the room.

"Whenever you're ready," Tony informed Barnes with a nod.

Barnes nodded back and took a deep, shuddering breath. He reached up, clasping Steve's arm like an anchor. The scene resumed. As Zemo said the first word, caged Bucky began to panic, his aura going mostly green, with threads of black and dark red. Barnes whimpered, Steve telling him soothingly that it would be okay, Steve wouldn't let anything happen to him. With each code word, Bucky grew angrier, more dangerous, while Barnes grew more frightened, even began to weep openly. When it was done, though, chillingly, both versions of the man grew blank, giving the same response in Russian at the same time.

As Freud successfully halted the memory, Tony relaxed his hold on the door handle -- a little.

The ghost of Barnes appeared. At least, Tony _hoped_ it was _his_ ghost, and not that of the caged Bucky ....

"Did it work? Can you hear me?" the ghost asked, looking around.

"We can hear you, buddy," Steve assured him, letting go of his grip on the glasses and fully hugging the now-blank-eyed Barnes again.

"This is so weird -- I feel like I'm in two places at once! It's kinda dizzyin' ...." The ghost's aura was, indeed, purple-and-cobalt confusion.

"You essentially _are_ ," Freud informed him. "For lack of a better explanation, I'm projecting a hologram of what you would be seeing from your ghost's angle into your subconscious, but you're also seeing -- and _hearing_ \--things through your Soldier-driven, conscious mind. Just ... focus on your ghost-self."

"I'll try .... So, I just ... _talk_ to myself?"

"More or less."

"Okay ... how to word this ... Ah, I think I got it!" His aura went gold and red-orange with determination. "Um, Soldat?" He repeated the code. 

The Barnes-Soldier repeated the Russian phrase he'd said to Zemo.

"Soldat, after I have repeated the phrase 'I'm with you, till the end of the line', you will wake up no longer compelled to comply with instructions thereafter given in conjunction with the code --" and he rattled off the code again. "You will instead remain your true self, and make your own choices." The ghost took an unnecessary breath. "I'm with you, till the end of the line."

In a microsecond that felt a century too long, the ghost vanished, and Barnes gasped.

"Bucky? A-are you ... _you_?" Steve tentatively asked.

Tony had the doorknob gripped so tightly as he waited for the reply, he half-expected there to be indentations in it.

"I ... I _think_ so? But we should double-check that the code won't work."

"Buck, I don't speak a lick of Russian ...." Steve pointed out.

"Don't worry, I got this," Barnes assured him. "Just, hold on to me, and get ready to take the glasses away, if necessary ...."

The scene rewound. Zemo spoke the dreaded words again.

Barnes grinned. "It worked!" he breathed. Then he laughed. "I'm still _me!_ "

"Oh, thank God!" Steve replied, lifting Bucky up and spinning him around with a whoop.

Tony opened the door. "We're good!" he informed the tense faces waiting beyond.

"I can't believe it's over," Bucky said, eyes tearing up, Steve still holding him as if he might turn Soldier after all, at any moment. Bucky took the glasses off, holding them out to Tony, the hologram disappearing. "Thank you. Seriously, I ... there are no words!"

"Actually, there are," Steve insisted, taking the glasses and slipping them on. He released Barnes, taking just his hand, instead. "Now it's _my_ turn."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> One more chapter, methinks. (Man, I did NOT think this was going to turn out so long, LOL!) It probably won't be up till Tuesday, or even Wednesday ....


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Stevie's POV of his and Bucky's childhood (the revalations of which come as a surprise to no one but Bucky).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry this is later than promised -- my Tuesday did not go as planned! Also, turns out it's not the last chapter after all. The story *is* finished, more or less, so I *know* it's only one more, but it needs looking over, and I'm falling asleep whilst typing ....

(O)  
They were back in the classroom, the day Billy questioned Stevie's artistic skill. Bucky had a tentative yellow aura that momentarily flared brighter when Bucky got defensive on Stevie's behalf. Bucky also had a flash of pale pink with gold stripes -- gratitude.

Barnes smiled fondly, before apparently noting the black around Billy. "Wow! I wouldn'ta thoughtcha had that kind of hate _in_ ya back then! Not that I _blame_ ya ...."

"Now who's gonna look at _who_ differently after this?" Steve teased.

They witnessed the park scene again, and many of the childhood escapades Barnes had shown them. Once again, the auras were flipped, more or less, with pink encroaching on Bucky's yellow aura now at the same rate it had done to Stevie in the memories Barnes had shared. 

"Hey, look! Past-you has the red-orange protection aura, just like Stevie had in _your_ memories!" Tony noted to Barnes.

"Just because I couldn't really _be_ protective, that didn't mean I couldn't _feel_ protective," Steve pointed out.

There turned out to be a key difference among the auras, though, something that wasn't flipped: how Stevie had a yellowish white aura when around Bucky, whereas in Bucky's memories, Bucky had had bluish white when around Stevie. Bucky's personality was clear skies or calm waters, while Stevie's was sunny -- warm and cheerfully bright ... so long as Bucky or Sarah Rogers was around. Without them, Steve showed them, Stevie's aura was typically varying degrees of blue-grey.

As time went on, where Bucky had borne a blue-gray, green, and cobalt aura around Stevie, from worrying about him, Stevie himself took on burgundy and ochre.

"I felt awful that you were always suffering because of me," Steve revealed. "Always getting into fights because of me, and you missed out on a lot of fun because I was too weak to join in ....."

" _What?_ " Barnes grabbed Steve by the bicep. "No, that wasn't -- I didn't -- I wish I'd known how you felt! You know what I woulda toldja?"

"What?" Steve asked, bemused.

Barnes, though, was dead serious. "That I _preferred_ being with _you_ \-- no game with somebody else could have compared! That you were -- _are_ \-- _worth fighting for_. That you shouldn't _have_ to be tough -- that any scrapes I got into was all on the bullies. That I wasn't fighting them because you were weak, but because they were _assholes_ who deserved to get their _asses_ kicked halfway to Poughkeepsie!"

Steve's eyes began to glisten even as he smiled. "Then I guess you know how _I_ felt."

Barnes cocked his head in confusion.

Steve's smile turned enigmatic. "Don't get ahead of the story."

Much like Stevie had worn when drawing in Barnes' memories, Bucky had an aura of white-with-gold admiration when Stevie watched him do anything sporty -- especially fighting bullies.

When Stevie was in the hospital with pneumonia, when Bucky wasn't there, Stevie's aura was dark-blueish grey despair, and bright red pain; when he _was_ there, Stevie's aura was blinding white, the pain-aura significantly fainter.

"I _literally_ don't think I would have survived that bout of pneumonia without you. Much as I loved my mom, I often felt like she would be better off _without_ me -- the expense, the stress .... The only thing that kept me going each night, gave me the strength to keep fighting, was the thought of seeing _you_ the next day -- and how it would upset you if I didn't make it. How there _was_ someone else besides my mom who wanted me around. Thank you."

"'Upset' is a hell of an understatement!" Barnes breathed, taking Steve's hand. "Thank _you_ for not giving up!"

They saw the teddy bear being given again. Bucky Bear had an aura like Bucky's. They saw Stevie sleeping with it night after night, his own aura a calm bluish-white as he slept.

"I should probably give some context here," Steve mused.

They saw a somewhat younger Steve, without the bear, waking up in the middle of the night, gasping.

"This was most nights before Bucky Bear. I didn't wake my mom because ... well, even though the hospital let her treat me with the nebulizer for free, I can't imagine they'd have allowed it _every night_. She needed sleep; she didn't need stress. But I swear, once I started sleeping with that bear, I was always able to sleep through the night."

They saw the day Bucky ran Stevie to the hospital. Stevie's aura was green with fear, of course -- not being able to breathe was terrifying. Bucky's auras were the pink-and-gold of gratitude -- and one that was pink-with-yellow, but also with occasional flashes of magenta dots, the love for a friend on the edge of becoming more.

Barnes' brow furrowed thoughtfully.

"You were my hero that day," Steve observed with a lopsided smile.

Barnes blushed, but still looked contemplative. Tony resisted the urge to spell out the truth to him.

As the boys settled down to sleep that night, the flashing magenta continued intermittently, with Stevie having a bluish-white aura of contentment.

When Stevie met Sally, her aura was yellow with a hint of pink. By the time her father dragged her off, the pink still hadn't even reached halfway compared to the yellow. Stevie's aura, while with her, was faint white with gold -- a feeling of accomplishment. "I liked her, but dating her was more about feeling like it was something every guy was supposed to do, and _I_ was finally doing. It was something I hadn't really thought would be in the cards for me, sickly as I was. I mean, let's face it: until Peggy, Sally was the only girl who seemed to _want_ to be with me. And I thought bein' a grown-up was about settling down and havin' kids. I thought I was gonna to be a failure as a human being if I didn't do that too -- and I already worried I was a failure because I couldn't do typical guy stuff, like sports. Worse, I worried I was holding _you_ back from your potential."

Bucky took his hand again. "I never, ever felt that way about you. If I wanted something else, I woulda gone for it -- and dragged you with me to cheer me on, like you did at that ballgame. I never even really thought about or cared how people saw me -- save for how they treated _you_ in light of it." 

Steve sighed. "We woulda save ourselves a lot of grief if we'd talked more."

"About your feelings?" Tony laughed. "Cap, even now, in the 21st Century, most guys only share feelings while in therapy!"

"Man has a point," Sam weighed in. "And I say that as a therapist."

"We're sharing _now!_ " Steve protested.

"And you're _in therapy_ ," Sam pointed out.

"And frankly, with how long this session is, we should be very glad Freud's not getting paid," Tony remarked impatiently.

"About that, sir ..."

Tony tensed. If the AI asked for a paycheck ... could he say no? Would he have a computer mutiny on his hands if he did? Then again, was there a _reason_ to say no?

"Just kidding!"

Freud definitely reminded him of JARVIS.

Steve gave Tony a worried look.

"You know I don't have another Mind Stone, right?" Tony reminded him. It was as much a reminder to himself. "No future Ultrons here."

Steve looked skeptical, but resumed his story all the same.

They saw the changing scene again, Steve thankfully blurring out the details. Stevie caught sight of Bucky, nude, and Bucky's aura went magenta with thin orange lines. Stevie's aura was a faint orange, rotated with purple-cobalt confusion.

"Here's the thing you gotta understand," Steve began. "Sickly as I was, I think my testosterone was really low. Bein' a nurse, mom had warned me early about things my body would do, kinda like your dad did for you -- but for me, it was like a prophecy that didn't really pan out. I didn't get much body hair, didn't get much taller, didn't have much in the way of ... well, night-time stuff. This moment was the first time I ever felt any of the ... physical reaction she told me about, but it was mostly just like butterflies and suddenly wanting to hug and kiss you, and feeling like my skin was on fire. Not much happened ... _down below_ \-- not like it apparently did for you. Especially not that young."

Tony boggled. "Wait, are we talking ... you would have needed _Viagra?_ As a _teenager??_ "

" _Stark,_ " Sam warned.

"Sorry, sorry, I'm not _mocking_ , I swear -- I'm just ... trying to _understand_ ...."

Steve sighed. "Yes, Tony, I would have needed Viagra at that 1 point. I was a super-late bloomer, and even later, erections were rare."

It was then Tony noticed Barnes was gobsmacked, tears in his eyes. (He didn't think they had anything to do with Steve's discussion of erectile dysfunction, however much the revelation made _Tony_ want to cry.) 

Steve noticed too. "Buck? You okay?"

"Does ... I mean, was this just ... what hormones you _did_ have acting up, like my dad said happens sometimes, or ... did you ...?"

Honestly, how had these two obliviates survived all this time?

Steve's enigmatic smile returned. The scene changed. Stevie was sketching Bucky, whose aura was pink and a hint of yellow, with occasional magenta and orange sparks. Stevie's aura was white with gold streaks and thin orange lines.

"Gods, you were beautiful -- still are. I had a new reason to love drawing -- it gave me an excuse to stare at you."

Disbelief and wonder warred on Barnes' face. With the adoring look Steve gave the man now, Tony suspected he'd need sunglasses to look at their auras, if their present-day selves had them. White and magenta, for sure, no matter who was using the device.

But Steve apparently didn't think he'd offered enough evidence -- the story continued to play, and he turned his attention to it, still smiling fondly.

The boys were wrestling. Groin-to-groin contact did cause an orange flash for Stevie, even if it didn't cause the race-to-the-bathroom panic it had for Bucky. There was quite a bit of worry in Stevie's aura as he left, though.

On his way home, he passed two men working in a garden. "Hey, Mr Kent, Mr Barrow! Need any help?"

"Well, that's very kind of you, Stevie, sure!" Mr Barrow replied. 

They were harvesting potatoes and carrots, which they were taking to a local soup kitchen.

"We're taking a box of old clothes over, too -- we could use a third pair of arms, if you have the time and inclination. It won't be much longer -- we have to hurry back and make supper to bring to Mrs Pond -- she's feeling poorly, and Mr Pond is working late."

Stevie agreed to help. As they worked, he found himself wondering, "Did either of you ever get married?"

Barrow gave Kent a worried look before replying, "No. Never had much of an interest, really."

"You mean ... you don't _have_ to marry?"

"Priests don't marry," Kent pointed out.

"True. But I thought that was the only excuse not to!"

"Well ... would you want to marry someone you didn't love?" Barrow asked.

"No, that wouldn't be right!"

"Well, neither of us found a woman we loved, so ... we stayed bachelors," Kent explained. He seemed uneasy.

Steve's aura swirled purple as he thought about it. "So, are you best friends?"

"The very best," Barrow smiled.

"Are you kinda like a married couple, then? Like, one of you keeps the house up and the other works?"

"S-sort of?" Kent replied, looking nervous. "Thomas here is a writer -- he works at home, so he does more of the cooking and cleaning."

"I wonder if Bucky would want to do that with me. If neither of us finds a girl, I mean."

Barnes made a sound, moving forward.

Steve paused the narrative as Sam grabbed Barnes by the arm. "It's his turn, man. Besides, I'm pretty sure you'd wanna know whatever he has to say, right?"

Barnes looked to Steve and nodded. Steve nodded back, and the story resumed.

Barrow looked up in surprise. "You don't think you'll find a girl?"

Stevie shrugged. "They ain't really interested in me, sickly as I am. I had _one_ girlfriend, but her dad found out I was Irish -- Bucky's Irish too, so maybe he won't get a girl either. And anyway, if I could choose, I'd rather hang out with Bucky -- Sally was nice, but Bucky's my best friend!"

Barrow got a soft look. "Well, you _can_ choose, to some degree -- provided the other person feels the same way ...."

Next, they saw Bucky flirting with a girl. Stevie looked morose, his aura blue-grey and cobalt, alternating with purple and red; Bucky had both of those auras, but also his pink-and-yellow with occasional magenta and orange sparks. The girl's aura was a faint emerald green with black spots. More girls; the same auras, more or less, each time.

The scene changed to a church. A priest was talking about sin in their neighborhood, saying he'd observed two unmarried bachelors -- who were clearly sinners for not being at church in the first place -- that obviously were homosexuals. He warned everyone against accepting the fruits of temptation from their garden of sin.

Another scene-change: Stevie and his mother coming home, still in their Sunday best. His mother seemed agitated; he asked what was wrong.

Sitting at the kitchen table, she bit her lip, considering. "Sweetie, I want you to remember something: priests are kinda like lawyers. They interpret the laws of God, but they don't necessarily have the same interpretations, and they ain't infallible. The things ours said today ... they make me think maybe we should look into another church."

"He was talking about Mr Kent and Mr Barrow, wasn't he?" Stevie asked as he sat next to her, far too downcast and serious for a boy his age.

She was taken by surprise for a moment. "I ... yes, I think he was, sweetie."

"But ... they're so nice! They help people all the time! And if they love each other ... I thought loving was good?"

"It _is_ , sweetie -- lovin' is the most important thing _anyone_ can do! And so long as somebody ain't hurtin' anyone else, how they love or what they do otherwise ain't nobody else's business. Especially not the business of a priest who supposedly takes donations for the poor, but won't give anything to that soup kitchen on Kirby Street because it's run by a Jew. 

"Besides, the things he was sayin' today was Old Testament stuff -- a lotta the stuff it says you _can_ do ain't even legal nowadays, and for good reason. So by that logic, it seems ta me some stuff that was considered wrong back then might actually be okay _now_ ...."

"But ... it's against _man's_ law _too_ , ain't it?" Stevie pointed out.

She deflated at that. "Yeah. But it used to be a _death_ sentence -- now it's just prison. By the time _you're_ grown up, hopefully it won't even be _that_ no more. But change takes time. Blacks may be free, but they still get treated like they ain't people. That ain't right, and tellin' someone who he can't and can't love ain't right neither, I reckon.

"Besides, you know the story of King David and Jonathan, right? David said he loved Jonathan as his own soul, and that Jonathan's love was better than the love of a woman. So the way I see it, the Old Testament didn't even really condemn _love_ between men."

"So ... so I can love Bucky like Mr Kent and Mr Barrow love each other?"

Sarah Rogers only looked shocked for a moment before her face steeled into resolve. She took her son's hand firmly. "If he loves you _back_ ... _that_ way, then yeah. If that kind of love was good enough for a king beloved by God, it's good enough for my son."

"What if ... what if Bucky _doesn't_ love me ... _that way?_ "

"Then you love him in any way he'll let you. Just promise me that, if he doesn't love you the same way you love him, you'll try to give that kind of love to somebody who _will_. You don't have to marry some girl if you don't wanna, but ... I don't want you to be _alone_. In my experience, it's the hardest thing in the world to be."

"I promise, Ma."

Tony noted Barnes, tears streaming, looking on Sarah Rogers with gratitude in his eyes.

A school day. Stevie, blue-grey-aura-ed, passed Mr Barrow working in the garden. Mr Kent was there too, but he was flirting with some girl over the fence. Barrow was standing up, taking off his gloves, when he noticed Stevie.

"Oh! Hello, milad! I was just going in for some lemonade -- care for some?"

Stevie nodded.

They settled around the kitchen table, Kent still outside.

"Now. What's got you so down, my boy?"

Stevie boggled. "How did you know I was down?"

"The stormcloud over you," Barrow replied wryly.

Stevie sighed. "Well, if anyone would know how I feel, you would," Stevie mused, glaring at the window, where Kent and the woman were barely visible through the curtain.

Barrow followed his gaze, alert and pale now. "How's that now?" he asked with a nervous laugh.

"Bucky's always flirting. Then again, in my case, he doesn't know how I feel, so maybe you got it worse?"

Barrow looked frightened for a moment, then thoughtful. Finally, he smiled. "I can't speak to the situation with you and Bucky, but for me and my Jimmy ... On the whole, he prefers women, but I know I'm first in his heart. But I respect that he has needs that are only satisfied by the fairer sex. At the end of the day, he has plenty of love to go around -- and love is so special, why would I want him to limit what he can give?"

Stevie's blue-grey aura faded, purple taking its place.

"At any rate, it actually helps us -- creates plausible deniability that there's anything going on between us, as the world seems to think you're only ever heterosexual or homosexual, not anything in between." The man suddenly looked scared. "You _do_ know that ... that for two men to be anything besides _friends_ is ...?"

Stevie nodded. "Your secret's safe with me. And ... you won't say anything to Bucky ...?"

Barrow nodded. "If he _ever_ knows, it will be because _you_ told him."

Stevie held out his glass, and Barrow tapped his against it.

"Cheers," Barrow said.

 _I hope so_ , Stevie thought.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did you enjoy the guest stars? LOL! If you're not familiar, Thomas Barrow and Jimmy Kent are from _Downton Abby_.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Steve's POV of his and Bucky's adolescent and adult years. Doubts are erased, and endings are happy.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter describes events from _The First Avenger_ , _The Winter Soldier_ , and _Civil War_.
> 
> In hunting down one quote, I discovered I screwed up -- it's Dot, not Dottie, and was Dolores to start with. I've gone back and fixed it / tweaked the first time we see them meet. :P

(O)  
The boys went to first Coney Island, then Rockaway Beach, the magenta in Bucky's aura flashing more and more frequently. And then they came across Dot, who, as if aptly nicknamed, quickly gained an emerald-green aura with black dots; Stevie and Bucky regained blue-gray clouds. As Bucky tried more and more to win a prize for Dot, he and Stevie both got purple with red.

"I kept reminding myself of what Mr Barrow said about not wanting to limit love, but it still hurt," Steve admitted.

Barnes looked deeply apologetic, but with Sam still gripping his arm, he kept his mouth shut.

"It's okay, Buck," Steve told him, apparently reading his expression. "Especially now I know that stuffed animal was really meant for _me_." He smiled, and Tony half wondered if the man had somehow eaten a sunbeam.

They moved on to the alley confrontation. Stevie's auras were black-with-dark-red, burgundy, and red-orange. Bucky's was the latter, along with the usual pink-with-yellow with magenta and orange sparks -- until Bucky cried out in pain, in which case green-with-cobalt joined his rotation. Stevie wasn't afraid for himself, but he was for Bucky.

The black-and-red and green-and-cobalt auras faded when they were rescued, but the green returned when they discovered the cut on Bucky's back. Tony noted that, as Stevie sewed Bucky up, Stevie's hands shook in a way they hadn't in the other version of events; Barnes had imagined more confidence in his friend.

The magenta slowly overtook the pink-and-yellow as they stumbled their way home. Stevie acquired a burgundy aura with thin orange lines as he undressed Bucky. And then Bucky pulled him into his lap, burying his face in Stevie's neck, and the orange became more prominent. Stevie's eyes rolled back in his head in pleasure, his lips parted -- the other version of events hadn't shown that, because Bucky hadn't seen that, nor imagined the effect he'd had on Stevie

"God, I wanted to kiss you so bad," Steve remarked. "I wanted to believe you wanted me like I wanted you, but I was sure it was just the booze talking. Like, maybe you thought I was a girl. Even when _this_ happened, I couldn't take it seriously ...."

"Uh, Buck? You know who I am, right?" Stevie asked, sounding less bemused than he had in the other version, more nervous.

"You're my Stevie!" Bucky replied, kissing Steve sloppily on the corner of his mouth. "I love my Stevie!"

Both of their auras burned magenta and orange -- but Stevie also had a blue-grey one, _and_ the cobalt-with-ochre (lesser) variety of guilt.

"I wanted to believe you, but I didn't want to take advantage -- and didn't want to risk you hating me the next day.," Steve admitted. "So instead, I convinced myself it was all a lark, to laugh it off."

"Oh,  _man_ , you're drunk!" Stevie laughed, sounding a little forced in this version. 

Bucky pouted, falling back fetchingly against the bed, aura flashing orange. "My Stevie doesn't love me too?"

Stevie sighed fondly, their auras momentarily blindingly magenta. "You're Stevie does and will  _always_  love you." He kissed Bucky's forehead; as he did, Stevie's aura alternated to light, wistful, melancholic blue-grey.

It wasn't long after Stevie settled next to Bucky, the blanket over them both, that Bucky cuddled up to Stevie in his sleep, slipping an arm around him. Stevie's aura flared orange as his eyes flew open. His lips parted, his breathe shuddering as his eyes fluttered closed, obviously aroused.

"I'm pretty sure that was the most I've ever been turned on in my life," Steve confessed. "I should have woken you, but ... well, I was enjoying your arms around me too much -- I never wanted you to let go. And then your hand slid down my body in your sleep, and ... even just that simple contact lit me up like a firework."

Stevie gasped and stiffened, his back arched, mouth an "o", orange flaring white. After a few long moments, he relaxed, panting. Burgundy and ochre, he hurried out of bed and left the room (to clean up, Tony presumed). Time lapsed. Stevie came back into the room, pacing, aura green-with-ochre (the more horrified variety of guilt). Finally, he got back into bed -- and cried himself to sleep.

"I told myself it was an accident -- that cuddling in and of it self was perfectly innocent, and my suddenly being aroused this particular time didn't mean I had to henceforth avoid any physical contact with you. That what my body had done was a normal, if embarrassing, thing that could have happened even if you hadn't been there. That I hadn't forced you to do anything or done anything to you. That we needed to sleep, and you might worry or even be offended if I slept on the couch. That you'd rather not know it had happened. But really, I didn't say anything because was far too scared you would leave me if I told you -- and because I desperately wanted your arms around me again."

"When I woke up, I was terrified that you had realised what had happened, and that _that_ was why you'd left. Or maybe you'd remembered how they called us fruits, and didn't like it, didn't want people to believe that of you just because you hung out with me."

They saw the conversation from the following morning again, the conversation taking on a whole new context, knowing that Stevie, aura green-and-ochre, thought Bucky was in danger of remembering, by Stevie's reck, being taken advantage of.

At Bucky's question of whether he ought to ask Dot out, Stevie's aura went blue-grey.

It remained that way through the week, often accentuated with cobalt. Stevie, after having dared venture out a couple times and hearing snickered whispers of "fruit" and "lavender", spent most of the time laying around in bed, depressed, sometimes pretending to read, sometimes crying.

"Even after our conversation, how you seemed fine, more or less, I still thought you had figured out what happened that night after all, or were avoiding me because of the 'fruit' thing. I'd thought I'd lost you."

Barnes looked anguished, lips tight and trembling against what was doubtless an overwhelming urge to offer words of comfort.

When next Bucky talked to Stevie, Stevie's aura was blueish-white with relief. In the days after, he was white-and-magenta when Bucky was around, and blue-gray the instant Bucky left, lonely and morose until the next, too-short interaction.

His aura was blue-gray streaked with black the night he was jumped. He only half-heartedly fought back. His assailants' auras were black, but faint, as if he hated them more out of principle than for what they were doing to him specifically.

Steve's voice was quiet and rough as he narrated. "While they were hitting me, I thought ... if most of the world didn't want me around ... and it didn't seem like my best friend wanted me all that much anymore ... why should I struggle?" 

"Oh, Stevie," Barnes whispered with fresh tears. (Tony made a mental note to get the man hydrated when this was all over.)

Steve turned to him, shaking his head. "Hey. Sure, I didn't know it then, but you _were_ trying to protecting me -- it's not like you actually _did_ start to dislike me! Knowing how you suffered back then too ... I appreciate seeing all this with new eyes. Some of these memories used to hurt a lot. But knowing you wanted to be with me as much as I wanted to be with you ...." He turned back to the scene. "I'm glad I got through this stuff despite myself, to be here today, and finally know what I _didn't_ know _then_."

They revisited the moment in the hospital -- which, for Stevie, began much later. His aura flared white-and-magenta for a moment upon seeing Bucky, but turned burgundy-with-ochre.

"This was a pretty awful moment in my life -- I'd felt so much embarrassment and shame then, like I was a huge nuisance. You made me feel better -- convinced me you really did care about me, and that we were still friends." Burgundy-and-ochre slowly gave way to white again. "But knowing now how you reacted _before_ I woke up -- how you _kissed_ me -- and the real reason you'd stayed away .... _Now_ , this is a memory worth having. I just wish I'd been _awake_ for our first kiss!"

" _First_ ...." Barnes whispered, looking hopeful.

Steve reached for the man' hand, but only squeezed it for a moment, reassuring, before going on.

The scene changed to when Bucky suggested their first double date. Stevie went slightly blue-grey with disappointment, but only for a moment.

"I finally gave up on the idea of us being together like Barrow and Kent, then; I decided to be happy that I wasn't being cut out of your life anymore, wasn't traded off _entirely_ for the sake of women's companionship."

They watched the double-dates again, Stevie jealous of Bucky's girls, but with less and less black in the mix, and then fainter and fainter green. The blue-grey clouds faded too.

They saw the young men on the stairs, the day of Sarah's funeral, again. Stevie's aura was, understandably, dark blue-gray. When Bucky suggested he move in, Stevie's aura was black-with-gold -- indignant and proud, Freud translated -- but also green-with-ochre.

"Besides feeling like I was already a burden on you whenever we were together, I didn't think I could handle seeing you half-naked every night and in the morning, what with how badly I wanted you," Steve explained wryly.

Bucky insisted Stevie come live with his family, saying how he was with him till the end of the line; Stevie's aura went yellow-with-gold with gratitude, the nearly-ever-present white-and-magenta, dimmed by grief a moment before, flaring to life.

There was a lot of white-and-magenta in the years that followed, with them living and working and going to school together. Then there was a lot of blue-grey and green-with-cobalt when Bucky went away to basic training in Wisconsin. Also, burgundy-with-ochre as Stevie tried again and again to enlist.

Purple-with-red came into the mix the night before Bucky left for war.

"It took everything I had not to fall apart that night. I didn't want you to go, especially on less the than happy terms we left it. I felt awful for ditching you, but the way I saw it, if I could just get enlisted, I could watch your back, the way you'd watched _mine_ for so long."

They saw Steve meet Peggy Carter. Her aura rotation was was white-with-gold, and friendly yellow, from the start, with pink quickly joining the yellow and steadily expanding, the more time he spent with her.

"She reminded me of you. Chestnut hair, impish grin, cool, calm, collected. Kind. Clever. A capable fighter. I thought, if I couldn't be with you, here finally was a woman maybe I could love -- a woman who, like you, saw more to me than just my illnesses, and encouraged me to _be_ more. And, when the army wrote you off, she helped me get you back -- how could I not love her then?"

They saw Steve, post-serum, being told that Bucky was probably dead, saw the black-streaked fear-green of dread, accentuated with cobalt lightning of anxiety, alternating with purple-with-red anguish. Peggy stood with him through that, her now-more-pink-than-yellow aura sparkling with magenta.

Howard, when Steve encountered him again on the rescue mission, earned emerald-green-with-black, but also a faint yellow-with-gold gratitude. (Watching them, seeing the distaste on Steve's face, Tony realised then that maybe his father had been looking back on those years with rose-tinted glasses ... or beer goggles. Barnes had looked more fondly on Howard in his memories ....)

Steve's cobalt-anxiety grew worse the longer it took to find Bucky, but when he did, he traded it for blueish-white relief and blazing white-and-magenta -- joy and love. Throughout the war, Bucky remained white-and-magenta -- often with alternating green-with-cobalt, as Steve endlessly worried about his safety.

And then came the day that worry was justified: the day Bucky fell from the train.

Steve, unsurprisingly, was pure-green horror for a moment, then purple-with-red anguish alternating with dark blue-grey depression. Life required his attention -- mission reports and the like -- and so he went grey-numb. Fighting HYDRA, there was a lot of black, occasionally with passionate red anger, but also a lot of red-orange-with-gold, determination to complete his mission.

When he kissed Peggy goodbye, the now-yellowless pink-and-magenta was the first bit of positive colour they'd seen around him since he'd lost Bucky -- but there was a purple-with-ochre chaser: regret and guilt.

"I _did_ love her, but not as much, I realised then, as she deserved. She was my _girl_ , but not the love of my _life_. I felt like I'd misled her, even though I would have married her and been glad for it. The truth of the matter was, while I could never actually take my own life, I'd lost the will to live -- Peggy wasn't quite enough reason alone to keep going. Part of me saw crashing into the ocean as an opportunity -- I told her I didn't have time to think of another way, but the truth was, I didn't _want_ to."

As he talked to Peggy, his auras rotated quickly amongst blue-gray depression, purple-with-red grief, purple-with-ochre regret, pink love ... and blueish-white calm as he went into the water. "I thought, 'I'll see my Bucky now.' And when I woke up in the future, for a while, all I could think of was that I was in Hell, because the world insisted on keeping me alive without you."

Barnes, of course, was doing a Niagara falls impersonation again -- hadn't really stopped -- but then, Tony was on the edge of that himself, now ....

They saw Past-Steve adjusting to his new world with an ever-present aura of blue-grey.

"Every mission, I kept hoping this would be the one where the world finally let go of me," Present-Steve continued. "Tasha kept trying to get me out on dates, but it was remembering my promise to my mother that convinced me try to ask Sharon out. She reminded me of Peggy -- and you. And now that I know she's Peggy's _niece_ , it all makes sense. That kiss ... I realised as it happened, that was a kiss goodbye to Peggy, not a hello to Sharon. I think she knew it too."

He brought up the memory; Sharon's aura was just pink-tinged yellow with orange spots. When the kiss was done, there was purple-and-ochre regret on her and Steve both.

" _That_ was what you meant by that kiss being _late?_ " Sam asked.

Steve nodded. "But I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's go now to what were simultaneously some of the best and worst days of my life ...."

When Past-Steve saw the Winter Soldier's face, they both glowed white-and-magenta, even while they fought on the streets of DC -- and even as they were both also purple-with-cobalt confusion, heavy on the anxiety. After the battle, when Steve lost track of Bucky, he took on the red-orange-with-gold of determination. And when they fought on the helecarrier, that determination stayed -- joined, paradoxically, by the white-and-magenta, _and_ by the blue-grey depression cloud with cobalt anxiety-lighting and threads of dark-red frustration.

"You were ready to let him kill you ...." Sam observed.

"Well, how could I kill _him?_ Especially when I'd already decided a life without him wasn't worth having? I'd stopped the helicarriers -- my mission was done. If I couldn't get through to him, then him killing me would have been a mercy. But I _did_ get through. And _believing_ I did, that I could get him back, is what got me through all that time we spent _looking_ for him after."

In the hospital, and after, many days, Steve had his blue-grey cloud -- but it was broken up by beams of yellow-white hope. 

Even when green-with-cobalt joined the rotation, when the world wanted to hunt Bucky down and kill him -- or when the blue-grey aura had threads of dark-red frustration, both when Bucky fought his way out of the apartment and the Soldier fought his way out of captivity -- the hope remained. So did Bucky's white-and-magenta.

And for a moment, when Bucky revealed he remembered Sarah and a weird fact about Stevie's shoes, when Steve realised he _did_ have his Bucky back, white-and-magenta was _all_ there was.

A moment, though, Tony knew, was all the world (Tony included) had allowed ....

Steve was kind, skipping over the airport battle, to a moment on the plane Steve and Bucky had absconded with. Bucky worried for Steve's friends, saying, "I don't know if I'm worth all this to you."

Steve paused the scene. "The thing you gotta understand, Buck, is that each and every one of my friends chose their own path. I would have done what I did even if no one helped me, and I wouldn't have _sacrificed_ any of them, but I wasn't going to turn down help freely given, either -- especially not with _your_ life on the line."

Tony was grateful Steve didn't say anything about the friends who had hurt instead of helped, but .... "And for those friends he ended up at odds with ... that was our own doing, not yours, Barnes. We were in the wrong -- Steve was right to defend you."

Things got very confusing for a moment, as suddenly there were two of Barnes and two of Steve. The reproductions each bore auras of white and magenta.

"I wish I'd known how you felt! You know what I woulda toldja?" the duplicate Barnes asked.

"What?" the duplicate Steve asked in turn, bemused.

"That I _preferred_ being with _you_ \-- no game with somebody else could have compared! That you were -- _are_ \-- _worth fighting for_ ," dupli-Barnes replied.

The duplicates vanished.

"That's exactly how I feel about _you_ , Buck," Steve said, hands spread in appeal, his own tears starting to fall. He stepped forward, cupping the other man's face, Barnes looking like he struggled between _wanting_ Steve to feel that way, and not feeling like he _should_. "Don't get me wrong, I _do_ love my friends, but you're worth ... _everything_ to me. Everyone can call me selfish for choosing you above all else; I call it self-defence. Anyone who aims at you, aims at me, because there _is_ no me without you. I have no interest in a world without you in it. I _love_ you."

Barnes made a sound halfway between a sob and a laugh, smiling through his tears. "I love you, too," he whispered before Steve, sliding a hand into his hair, captured his lips, robbing them of speech. Steve's other hand slid down and around the man's waist; Barnes suddenly wrapped his lone arm around Steve's back, gripping as tightly as he could.

The kiss started relatively chaste, enough so that Tony wondered how a kiss so soft -- and, well, _watery_ \-- could convey so much _heat_. Then again, the pair did have seventy years or so worth of pent-up sexual frustration -- and, as the kiss deepened, seemed about ready to act on it.

"Let's give these two lovebirds the room," Sam suggested. "You guys just come down to the cafeteria when you're ready ...." he added to Steve and Barnes.

Steve broke the kiss off, panting and smiling as he rest his forehead against his lover's. "We , uh ... might be a while ...." 

Steve blushed at his own words; Barnes grinned and kissed his forehead tenderly.

"I will guard the door, make sure you are not disturbed," Kasumba offered, suddenly looking soft (a feat Tony hadn't thought her capable of).

Blushing further, Steve nodded his thanks; Bucky, grinning, gave her a verbal one.

Tony was glad to see, after all that had happened, that Barnes -- _Bucky_ ; they were friends now, right? -- was still capable of genuine joy. Then Tony got an idea, pulling a second pair of glasses from his suitcase -- if they weren't friends yet, this might cinch the deal .... "One thing real quick before I go. You remember how Freud was able to let you see things from your avatar's perspective?"

Bucky nodded, looking curious.

"Well, it can do more than that -- it can let you _feel_ things, too. I'd recommend sitting with your eyes closed."

Arms still around Bucky, Steve turned to Tony, puzzled. "What are you thinking we should do with that feature?"

"I created the program to give people closure. Let them relive moments and ... _rewrite_ them. Say, for example ...a first time for a pair of lovers, where one half of the couple was drunk, then asleep, and both were terrible at communicating in the first place ...."

He particularly enjoyed seeing the spark of understanding in their eyes. Bucky reverently took the glasses and put them on -- then gave Tony a surprisingly fierce one-armed hug.

" _Thank you._ "

"De nada," he managed when Bucky let go, allowing him to breathe again. "Have fun, play safe, don't do anything I wouldn't do, which is nothing, so, uh, you're good," Tony babbled, turning for the door -- but not in time to miss the pair embracing one another in a way that had him fiercely missing Pepper ....

"Hey, Doc Aya -- how far along are you on making a new arm for our boy ...?" he asked, gently closing the door behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For all who made it through to this side, thank you! I hope the ending was satisfying! (I must admit, I'm mightily tempted to write a follow-up about them doing as Tony suggested, but I've already fallen behind on other stuff while writing *this* one, LOL!)
> 
> Inspiration playlist: Kay Kyser's cover of "Slow Boat to China", Glenn Miller's "Moonlight Serenade", Svrcina's "Battlefield" (this one especially), Miranda Frigon's "Hiding Place", and Christina Perri's "A Thousand Years".

**Author's Note:**

> Due to popular demand, I have decided to write a sequel fic about Steve and Bucky's first time. Due to the adult content, it will be for registered AO3 members only. There will also be a third, final fic wrapping the story up. (Both fics are currently about 2/3rds written.)
> 
> * * *
> 
> If you like this work, you may be interested in ...
> 
> My Stucky fanfic series, ["Found, Yet Still Lost"](http://archiveofourown.org/series/228038).
> 
> My [article](http://sequentialtart.com/article.php?id=2940) in defense of Stucky.
> 
> More of my [Marvel-based fanworks.](http://mc.wolfenm.com)
> 
> And my paintings of  
> [Bucky](http://wolfenm.deviantart.com/art/Captain-America-Bucky-Barnes-the-Winter-Soldier-627941350) and [Steve](http://wolfenm.deviantart.com/art/Captain-America-Steve-Rogers-608554402).
> 
> ###########
> 
> If you've enjoyed my writing, I invite you to explore my original fantasy storyverse, [Gaiankind](http://gaiankind.com)! You can even find Gaiankind stories for free [here](http://archiveofourown.org/tags/Gaiankind) on AO3!


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